Angelus
by bubblemilktea
Summary: My attempt at the Hermione Pureblood idea. The Angelus are the most notorious of all the purebloods. Known as the right hand to the Dark Lord, they are killers. What happens when Draco finds himself the Guardian to the lost Angelus, Hermione Granger?
1. Prelude

A/N: This is the first fanfic I have written in a while. I can not guarantee that this will ever be finished or that it will be updated frequently, but if you do read this, please review. I decided to write this because I'm tired of reading fanfics about Hermione being a pureblood that are not quite up to par with my expectations. It's a difficult subject to write about, but I find the results fascinating. So on with the show!

Disclaimer: I don't own anything of Harry Potter. I just own the plot

_Prelude_

_The lights were dim in the cavern that night. Hermione shivered as she descended down the dew blanketed stone stairs; the cold draft from the cavern came up at her. She donned only a nightgown-like dress: it cut right below the curve of her bum and, while it was held up by two spaghetti straps, it dipped low enough to see some cleavage, not to mention that it was nearly sheer. A small, silver knife hung by her right thigh as a constant reminder of why she was there._

_At the bottom, her attendants left her and the lights grew a pinch brighter. There, in the middle of the cavern was a pond. She could see the depths from where she stood and the green-blue water looked serene in contrast to its surroundings._

_"Angelus" She bowed low and held the position. "Rise"_

_Hermione did as she was told and rose to face the speaker: the Dark Lord._

_"Descend," he commanded and she obeyed. She began to walk into the water until she reached the center. The water pooled around her and a bit above her waist. She shivered._

_Around the pond were a scarce few, those to witness the ceremony and trial._

_"Angelus, you are now of age. We've allowed your silly games to go on long enough. You will embrace who you are and join your family in their ranks. You will accept your duty and be who you were meant to be."_

_"Yes," Hermione whispered. She felt no dread, no fear. She knew this day would come and she accepted her fate, who she was meant to be: a killer, a healer, an Angelus, the right hand of the Dark Lord._

_"Prepare"_

_She took the dagger out of its sheath. The silver blade shone a blue-green, crimson color as it reflected the torch light and the water._

_"Begin"_

_The silver blade found its place on her right thigh. She gasped in pain as she began drawing the runes which would make up her crest. Those around her chanted the spells and she became detached from the world. So much blood, she realized as the water around her filled with a rust tint._

_In one final word the binding was complete._

_"Welcome Daughter, our Angelus…"_

Hermione sat up in her bed awake and covered in sweat. That dream...

She had always known she was different, that she was not what she seemed, and she did the only thing she could do; she cried.

She knew she was living a lie: a secret that she could not part with…a secret she could not bare to remember. All of it, related to that one word…

_Angelus_

That's it for now Please Read and Review


	2. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own Harry Potter Only the plot

_Chapter_

To say that Hogwarts was a place of light, a beacon of hope in these Dark times would be the hyperbole of the century. Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry was now the unofficial battleground of a new generation.

The Dark Lord had risen and Dumbledore was gone. Alliances were made and lines were drawn. Older students looked out for their young ones as a lioness would look out after her cubs. Gryffindor and Slytherin came out on opposite poles, and while the other houses tried to stay out of it, they too were drawn in by the Slytherins constantly abusing their kind.

So, that's how the entire Slytherin house became outcast and their king, Draco Malfoy, scorned by the entire school, even by a few second years in his own house who remembered the kind headmaster who'd welcomed them their first year.

The Angel of Death they called him for his actions the previous year, those of allowing Death Eaters into the school and murdering their classmates, dear friends, and their precious headmaster.

Draco showed no protest to this. He simply continued to act as he had previous.

One may wonder why Slytherin was allowed to return in the first place, and it was for one sole reason: their late Headmaster's wishes. In his will he had begged Professor McGonagall, now Headmistress, to allow students of all backgrounds into the school, despite what may happen. It was in respect to this single wish that she had allowed Slytherin to return and with them, Snape.

Professor Snape. The name rose hate and fear in the same breath to all. They all knew who he was, a traitor, a deatheater. He continued his classes as usual, but with more malice, more control, and more biting remarks than ever seen before at the magical school.

So, when Gryffindor and Slytherin 7th years had History of Magic together, let's just say that tensions ran high.

The magical classroom was as it always was: a row of desks on one side, and a row of desks on the other creating a "hall," for lack of better terms, in the center for the Professor to aid those who needed it. Books were piled high around them and the warm room did little to soothe the foul mood of the students.

Gryffindor sat on one side while Slytherin sat on the other. The two houses sent looks of hatred and spite to one another until class began.

With a clearing of his throat, Professor Binns began to speak.

"Students, today we will be re-examining the seven ancient lines. Now, can anyone name who they are?"

Hermione raised her hand in patience, not with the eagerness of her youth, but with the firm assertiveness of maturity. Happy that he could always depend on Miss Granger to break the building tension of the room, Professor Binns pointed to her, urging her to speak. She opened her mouth to reply when another voice began.

"Professor, is this really necessary?" Draco asked in his cold voice that froze the room like an ice storm. Eyes glared at him, warning him to stay in his place. "The first thing any pureblood child learns is the names of the Seven Families. Why not save your breath professor and conclude class?"

Harry and Ron began to stand up when Hermione roughly grabbed their arms and tugged them down back into their seats. They each sent her a glare to convey their annoyance. The Professor stood unfazed and only smiled, the mirth within his eyes gone.

"Well then Mr. Malfoy, do enlighten us," the professor replied stepping down from his stand.

Harry and Ron begrudgingly sat still as Draco stood up to take the stage. His dark eyes flashed with deadliness and his voice came out like the quickest venom.

"There are Seven Ancient Families: the Blacks, the Zabinis, the Malfoys, the Princes," he grimaced as he said the following names, as though they were unworthy of being spoken by his tongue, "the Longbottoms, the Weasleys," and he simply paused as people prepared for the last name. His dark look turned into one more sinister. "…and the Angelus."

A hiss went through the air and many small gasps occurred throughout the room, as if they had not believed that he would actually speak the name. While the Dark Lord was spoken of in ambiguous terms, like "He-who-must-not-be-named," the Angelus was to never be spoken of, period. The reaction gathered glares from the Gryffindors and cool, reserved looks on the faces of Slytherin, for the Angelus were pureblood royalty. Loyalty to the Dark Lord was required, but loyalty to the Angelus came first.

Draco's sinister look never lifted off of his face as it lit up with dark humor, as if he found amusement in their pitiful reactions. "Ah yes, the notoriously known Angelus, rumored to have descended from Serafina, the fallen angel. Deadly killers and assassins to the Darkness with extraordinary healing magic, they are the bringers of life and death. Always watching, moving in the Darkness, they seem to fall off the Earth and vanish," he paused to let the information sink in. "But everyone knows that they all disappear to become the right hands of the Dark Lords."

He paused again and looked at the crowd. All seemed to be affected by his words. The muggles were rightly scared and shaking, most having been threatened by purebloods that they would send the Angelus to take them in their sleep. Even the purebloods seemed to feel a shiver. The words Angelus held a power to them, more so than any other name.

"Malfoy, while we adored your little speech, why not allow the Professor to finish his lecture?" Hermione finally said breaking the silence. His eyes crashed onto hers and she remained calm, despite the fear that began to fill her heart.

"You don't believe my words Granger?" Malfoy inquired with a hiss as he slowly made his way over to her desk. "The Angelus would kill a mudblood like you in a matter of seconds if they were feeling…generous."

"The Angelus line is nearly non-existent. The last Angelus, Marcus, was killed in the First War. We all know they only had one daughter. Where she is now though, well, that remains to be seen," she replied calmly, but anger was apparent in her eyes. She gave a cruel smirk to rival Draco's and added with an impish gleam in her eyes, "But little ferrets on the other hand…"

His eyes flashed and in an instant both stood up their wands at hand, but his was on her neck while hers hung by her side. The next instant all of Gryffindor and Slytherin had stood up, wands ready to duel if needed. It would not be the first time it had happened. Usually it was the second or even fourth years that were foolish enough to try. It was rare for the older classes to duel, but this, this was called for. Slytherin had attacked a Gryffindor, which was attacking them all.

"Malfoy, get your wand off her," Harry hissed, wand pointed at him. He couldn't advance in fear that Draco would actually hurt Hermione.

"Harry, back off," Hermione replied, eyes blazing with fury. Her eyes met his and they stared back in challenge. "He's mine."

Harry and Ron looked at each other stunned. Rarely had Hermione participated in their war. She was always the one to dictate peace, never partake in the opposite. They knew she was serious by the way her eyes blazed and they backed down, signaling for the rest of Gryffindor to back down as well.

Blaise Zabini met Draco's eyes in question as to their position. A curt nod gave the signal for Slytherin to back down as well, and with a signal from Blaise, they did.

"It's not very polite to hold your wand to a lady's neck Malfoy," Hermione commented coolly as she held tightly onto her useless wand. _Fucking seeker reflexes_.

"But you forget Granger, you're not a lady. You're the filth that ruins her pretty little shoes," he replied as a slightly amused look entered his eyes.

"Of course, the scum that your Angelus bends down to lick off," she replied smirking as she chocked out the filthy words.

His wand pressed painfully into her skin. She knew it'd leave a mark as he hissed, "I'd watch the words that came out of your filthy little mouth mudblood."

Inside she was about to scream, but she betrayed nothing as she continued to smirk. "Of course Malfoy," she replied coolly. "Wouldn't want you catching a disease."

Their eyes met and an onslaught of emotion happened to them, the passion of anger, the frustration, the loathing and hate. He looked at her in disgust and then tossed her aside. He walked back to his desk as Gryffindors clamored to save their fallen girl.

Professor Binns stepped in as the class regrouped. "Yes, well, thank you for enlightening us on the subject Mr. Malfoy, but I'm afraid I must bush up on a few things so without further ado…" He continued his rather dull lecture as students began reply the scene that has just occurred over in their heads. Usually Professor Binns' class called for the proper amount of zoning out, which was a skill considered essential by the students of Hogwarts, but today's occurrence was rare and one to be pondered about.

"Very well, class dismissed! And don't forget the two foot essay that will be due next week. Choose one of the families to research and look into their status in society today!" the Professor announced calling an end to their thoughts.

The class filed out and Hermione walked with Ron and Harry congratulating her on a job well done.

"That was bloody brilliant Mione!" Ron exclaimed patting her on the back. "I couldn't have done better myself!"

"That's because Weasley, you'd turn as red as the bush you call hair before you could take a swing at me."

They turned to see Draco Malfoy smirking at them. He walked passed and purposely shoved Hermione roughly into the wall. She winced in pain as the wall jabbed into her shoulder.

"What the fuck Malfoy?" Harry exclaimed glaring at Draco in fury. "Your little move in class wasn't dirty enough for you that you had to get one last hit in before your reputation as the biggest prick was tarnished?"

"Tell your little whore to watch where she's going Potter," Malfoy sneered as he glared not at Harry, but straight at Hermione Granger. They eyes met in a fiery blaze of anger before he turned away.

They all stood at glared in hate as Malfoy made his way down the hall. Students on all sides parted for his passage, noticing his particularly foul mood.

Harry turned to Hermione as gave a small smile, the pain apparent in his eyes as he looked at her neck. "Are you alright? You don't want to go see Madame Pomfrey?"

She shook her head as they made their way down to the Great Hall. "And let Malfoy rub that into my face later? I think not. Besides, it adds to my sex appeal doesn't it?" she teased, knowing that would crack them up. It did. "I'll just consider it a battle wound."

They grinned at her and slung their arms over her shoulders and continued in that fashion to the Great Hall.

She smiled with them, but it didn't reach her eyes. She didn't consider her actions a victory in the ever building war between Gryffindor and Slytherin. It was only another "battle" in a series of battles.

The two boys were much the same as when she had first met them, but they also had changed quite a bit. Of course physically they had grown up and become men, but mentally they had too. They were still the goofballs who never finished their homework until the night before, but they had seriousness to them, a calm maturity. It made her glad to see that they were finally growing up.

Please Review It may convince me that continuing this is a good idea Hee


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Omg, I'm so sorry! I wanted to get this chapter up sooner, but I've had some difficulties with my computer. Long story short: I got a trojan so I was afraid to use my computer at all! Ah! It's no excuse but...  
This chapter is rather short. I know this, but, it seemed like an appropriate cut off and I didn't want to keep you all waiting longer than you already have. Thanks for your reviews last chapter. It really meant a lot to me. Hee, thanks to those who are reading this and have recently added me to your story alerts and fav. story lists. It really touches me that I'm getting so much support. Thanks again Hee. Okays, on with the story.

Disclaimer: Same as first chapter

Chapter

The Great Hall was already filled with students when they entered. Foods of all sorts were laid out on the tables and students were busy chattering away. Even the teachers seemed to enjoy the rather carefree mood the Great Hall provided.

She sighed happily as she sat down. If there was one place the remained neutral in the ongoing war between the students, it was the Great Hall. It had been agreed upon that the hall would remain neutral ground after an incident involving a rather ugly food fight. Even the teachers enforced this rule as they observed closely the happenings of the hall. Were a student to get out of hand…well, they'd be looking forward to a week or more of hell with Snape and the mere mention of Snape was enough to make any student shiver in fear. Thus, the Great Hall became like the "Demilitarized Zone" between the two sides. To Hermione, at least, it was a relief that she could eat in peace.

Still, the hall was quieter, not in noise, but in mirth. Tension hung in the air as students and teachers alike read news about the increasing boldness of Voldemort and the growing number of families that were lost.

Ginny sent her a small smile and a wave from two seats away. Hungry, Hermione grabbed a plate of chicken and rice. She was starving and, after the lesson in History, she figured she deserved a good meal.

"I heard about what happened in History. The whole school is talking about it," Ginny whispered excitedly as she moved to sit by her comrade.

The youngest Weasley had become gorgeous over the summer but was considered a "look but not touch" item by the school. This was due to the various death threats which hung over the man who so ever broke her heart or looked at her the wrong way. There was one brother in school, but boy did the other brothers seem to pop out of no where when one was walking down Diagon Alley. Besides, no one wanted to be on the bad side of the Weasley twins: pranksters extraordinaire.

Hermione groaned. "I'm never going to hear the end of it, am I?"

"Well, you are sporting a rather nasty bruise there Hermione," Ron piped up from across the table. "You sure you don't want to get that checked?"

"I'll be fine," she replied, exasperated at the number of times they had asked her. After Harry's original inquiring of her wellness, seven more proceeded it, two from Harry himself, three from Ron, one from a passerby first year who reminded her of the female version of Neville, one from Draco Malfoy himself who gave her a smirk in the hall way on her way to the Great Hall to ask if she did not need assistance in getting rid of that horrible mark which donned her neck, and finally the now eight inquiry from Ginny. To say the least, it was annoying.

She finished her lunch well enough. No one brought up Madame Pomfrey again and she remained rather quiet throughout the whole meal, only adding to the conversation here and there. Those around Hermione knew not to bring up History while others did not. Thus, Hermione received various congratulations, much to her annoyance, but she couldn't help but smile too. Apparently her act had made many others happy.

After lunch, she decided to begin working on the project Professor Binns had assigned them. Harry and Ginny had long given up patronizing Hermione's study habits, but Ron still insisted on commenting.

"We got the bloody assignment today! That gives us the whole week to work on it! Why not wait until tomorrow, or the day after that, or the day after that?" Ron exclaimed wildly waving his arms franticly to stress the importance of his message.

"Because then I'll become like you: a slacker," she teased, sticking out her tongue as she grabbed her bag. The library awaited her.

The assignment seemed simple enough. She would simply need to gather information on one of the ancient seven, write the paper, and leave. Of course being Hermione though, she wanted a challenge. That's how she chose the Angelus. She knew no one else would. It was a taboo subject. The muggle and half-blood students could never obtain adequate information and the purebloods avoided the subject all together. She smiled at the thought of succeeding where no other student had succeeded before. Giddy, she dropped her bag and went to complete her quest.

* * *

Three hours later Hermione Granger, Queen of Research, Finder of Information and Great Explorer into the Recesses of the Library had failed to find one bit of information on the Angelus. 

She wanted to hex something. Oh, she had found general information, information that everyone knew about, but she found nothing noteworthy, nothing extraordinary. She looked at her notes.

-The books all listed that the Angelus family was the first of the seven ancient lines not for its wealth, but for its power. The Angelus family held all the other lines in order so that they all bowed to the Angelus. (To give a visual, if the ancient lines were a society they would have a monarchy with the Angelus at the top: the king.)

-In recent years, all information on the Angelus is nearly nonexistent to the point where people speculate on the actual existence of the Angelus. The Angelus is now more of a myth than an actual person, something to scare little kids with, like the boogie man.

-The last known Angelus was Marcus Angelus. He was known to have served the Dark Lord and to have died during the First War. It is unknown if he was married or if a legitimate or illegitimate heir was conceived.

She looked at her notes rather depressed. She had never in her memory failed to fill a page of notes, even in grade school, and currently her notes did not even fill a foot of parchment. Disheartened, she decided to retire to her rooms and work on her Arithmacy assignment from earlier that day.

She slowly made her way to the Head Dormitory. It was pleasant enough she supposed. Both Malfoy and she made their best effort to avoid one another. It was mutually agreed upon the first day, well, rather, mutually understood. They never spoke a word to each other that first day in their common room. They simply exchanged insults and understood that they were not to invade on each other's time. So, during the first few weeks Hermione vigorously memorized Draco's schedule and habits and he did the same to her.

Thus to her surprise, Draco was in their common room. He looked at her almost startled. It was not often they ran into each other outside of class. His look of surprise though quickly turned into a sneer so that one questioned the presence of the other emotion ever being upon his dainty little pureblooded face. "Granger"

"Malfoy," she replied in an equally cool tone.

They stood silent for a while, observing on another. She concluded that he was going out to do rounds. Tomorrow was Slytherin's day at the pitch, so it was unlikely that he was going out to participate in…extracurriculars unless he was feeling…ambitious.

Aware of this knowledge, she still decided to pursue her line of questioning. "Going to find a bed warmer Malfoy?" she asked amused at her own joke.

"As I've always told you Granger, you're welcome anytime," he replied looking her up and down. She knew he was joking and he knew she knew that he was joking. He looked at her in challenge: how far are you willing to go? She met his challenge: as far as you'll take me.

He smirked. "Tsk Tsk Granger," Malfoy said as he slowly made his way towards her, pausing only when he was an inch away from her body. He wagged his finger at her nose and a sinister smile graced his lips. "As a mudblood," he said in the same tone he would have said Granger. "You should jump at every opportunity," he slowly undid her tie. "You're presented with." His lips were dangerously close to her ear and his hand had found its way to her blouse. He continued, "Otherwise that opportunity may never come."

There was a moment of silence. His hand didn't move. There was no rustling of clothes, of buttons being unbuttoned and buttoned. There was only the soft sound of life entering and leaving the body, the soul.

She met his gaze and her words were spoken gently, like the passing wind; it was not a disturbance to the silence which surrounded them. It was merely an accompaniment to the puffs of breath which left them. "Oh, those girls. I believe we call them sluts. I'm sure you're rather familiar with them."

He looked at her, not in anger, but in what she considered amusement. He gave her a slow, rather lethargic smile. "You know Granger, were you a Slytherin I would say that's rather cleaver of you."

With that, he gazed at her once more, took a step back and walked away.

Hee, what did you think? Loved it? Hated it? Want it longer? Hee. Leave me a review


	4. Chapter 3

A/N: Hi Hi Guys

I know, it's been a long while, but I've had a crazy few months. My boyfriend of one year broke up with me, I had family issues and now I'm off at college. I guess real life gets in the way huh?

Anyways, I made this longer than normal. Hopefully this will be the normal chapter length from now on if not longer. If you find grammar errors I'm so sorry. I finished writing the first part of this today and looked briefly over the next part. I might edit it in the next few days, but for now I thought you guys might appreciate a new chapter. Besides, if I don't put it up now I'm not sure when I will. If it feels rushed, I'm so sorry. I need to do some final touches x.x

Thanks so much for your support guys. I hope you like this! Please Read and Review!

Disclaimer: Nothing is mine, just the story line

Chapter

Three days after their encounter, Hermione Granger still avoided Draco Malfoy as much as possible.

Now, it wasn't a very Hermione thing to do, avoiding the problem that is, but she figured she had every right to do so in this case. Psychoanalyzing what had occurred would lead her down a path of bad and evil thoughts, thoughts that the two had actually come to a truce which would lead to them being…friends.

She made a face. Catching her look, Ginny gave a questioning face from across the table. Hermione just shook her head to say it was nothing. She shrugged and turned to continue her conversation with Luna.

She wanted to bang her head on the table. Hermione Granger should not be having thoughts like this. It was a sin, a grave sin.

"Hermione?" Ron asked for what sounded like his thousandth time. She snapped out of her thoughts and looked at him. Seeing that he finally had her attention he asked, "Are you okay?"

"I'm fine Ron," she replied tartly, rather irritated that she had been caught once again in her rather dazed state.

"Well, I was just wondering," he replied as he grabbed for the orange marmalade. He piled on the jelly and then took a big bite out of his thick wheat toast. He knew by now when to push Hermione and when to not. This was one of those not times.

Grabbing her bag, Hermione got up. "I'm going to the library. I need to get a start on my essay before I have to do rounds."

They all nodded as she waved hoping that her walk to the library would relieve her of her obvious distress, and off she left.

She couldn't understand it. Draco Malfoy was actually congenial. Yes, what he said to her that night was congenial in Malfoy terms. Then she stopped dead in the hall and groaned. Rounds, Malfoy, Fuck.

It was a tradition that Head Boy and Girl patrol the halls together every Monday and Thursday night. Tonight happened to be Thursday night. Damn. There was no avoiding it.

Thus she spent the next hour furiously attacking her homework. That always helped her feel prepared to difficult feats like the one coming up right now.

At five minutes to ten she packed her things to meet Malfoy in their common room like usual and as usual they didn't speak a word to each other as Malfoy walked to the hall. She soon followed three steps after.

Together they walked beginning in the dungeons and working their way up to astronomy tower, each with their dimly lit wands in front of them.

It was Hermione who found them first: three fifth year Slytherins and one third year Gryffindor. If she recalled correctly, her name was Alice. They stopped their assault to see what the disturbance was.

"Sixty points from Slytherin for being out late and assaulting an innocent student and ten points from Gryffindor for lack of common sense and stupidity for being out this late alone and without a wand," Hermione exclaimed immediately breaking the group up. They turned to return to their beds, some more happily than others.

"Ah Granger, you spoiled their fun," Draco said approaching behind her.

"If this is your definition of fun, I don't want to know what you do at night," she replied back angry. She felt a splitting headache coming on. She rubbed her temples to try and alleviate the building pressure.

He smirked, or rather, she felt his smirk. "I could always show you."

"Show me what?" she snapped back. When she looked up she saw him closer than their agreed three steps to her. She unconsciously took a step back towards the wall.

"A good time," he replied as he inched up to her. "Or as you put it, my definition of fun."

"As if," she spat back. She wanted nothing more than to smack that ridiculous look off his face. He looked so confident, so full of himself.

"Tsk Tsk Granger. You shouldn't refuse something that comes once in a lifetime. Who else can say they've been shagged by a sex god?"

"All of Slytherin and a few from Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff who fell for the bad boy image," she shot back, the adrenaline beginning to rush though her.

"Ah, and now I can add one Gryffindor,"

She didn't have time to reply back. His lips came crashing on her. She lost all sense of time, place and propriety. Here was a beautiful, blond, sex god crushing his lips upon her as though he was deprived of air and she was his only means of getting that sweet sweet substance. He pushed her roughly against the wall and pressed his body up against her. God, how she despised it.

"Enjoying it Granger?" he hissed as she struggled against his hold. He hissed the words into her ear.

"Hardly," she replied matching his gaze. She eyes blazed with fury. She tried to kick him; anything to get out of his grasp. He let out a laugh, and she felt her blood chill. She felt his hand on her thigh and stared him straight in the eyes. "Don't you dare Malfoy."

"Dare what?" he asked with a smirk. His hand did not move an inch.

She gaped at him, unable to form the words. He moved his hand to urge her on. "Don't you dare move that hand any higher Draco Malfoy or I will hex you to oblivion and beyond," she hissed.

Despite her threat, she couldn't bring herself to struggle out of his grasp as his hand slid higher and higher up her thigh. It finally stopped just short of her bum so that it rested on her fleshy thigh.

She felt a heat. It was not arousal, but something different. It radiated from Malfoy's hand. She looked down as did he to gaze upon her birth mark. Etched in what seemed to be white was a picture of an angel wing and in the center was a heart.

Their eyes met once again, but this time it was different. He was no longer smirking. Instead anger replaced them. Before she knew it Malofy's other hand soon made its way up her blouse. She let out a cry as he ripped her blouse open.

"What the fuck Malfoy?" she screamed as she desperately tried to cover herself. He had finally let go of her. She stood, arms crossed over her chest as he looked not at her but at her necklace.

After what seemed to be minutes, hours, he finally spoke. "Go clean yourself up. You look as though you've been thoroughly shagged. I'll finish rounds myself."

With that he turned and walked away.

* * *

After that night she didn't see Draco Malofy again. In fact, he all but avoided her. She didn't realize it at first, but after the first few days it became apparent. He was never in their rooms. He always sat the farthest he could away from her, and she never ran into him in the halls. He always sat with his back towards her and hell, he even stopped doing rounds. The first night she waited half an hour before she said, "Screw it" and did rounds herself.

She wasn't sure how she felt about it. A part of her was relieved. It made her life a lot easier not having to worry about Draco Malfoy, but another part of her was her. It was a quite small part, but alas, there it was inside of her. She wanted to snub it out, like one would crush a cigarette butt under her heel.

She asked Zabini one time during their rounds. He simply shrugged. He had asked Draco the same thing the other day. He simply replied that Zabini needed to "fuck off" and that he "had better shit to do than follow a prissy Gryffindor around for rounds." To say the least, Hermione had a few choice words to say to that.

That's why she didn't understand why he would place the tome that he did upon her table stand. She stood there in their common room staring at her stand. On it laid a very ancient looking tome. She knew only Malfoy would have placed it there because he knew that's where she placed her books that she read each night before she retired to her chambers. To further affirm that it was indeed Malfoy, he had taken the novel she was reading and replaced it with this hideous, but rather important looking tome.

She sighed and gave in. Fine, she'd play his little game.

That's how she ended up reading the night away.

In the tome held the answers to everything she sought. Angelus. She spent the night feverously reading the entire tome. The more she read, the more dangerous the information felt to her. She realized this was the reason nothing was ever said about the Angelus. Were the public to know, god, they would kill her.

It was that night she put two and two together. Her birthmark, the necklace she inherited from her grandmother was not actually her grandmother's at all. It was her father's, Marcus Angelus' crest, the Angelus Crest.

She was indeed the last Angelus.

At four in the morning, she couldn't help but stare at the ceiling. The information sunk in as she stared, arms sprawled out. Angelus. The word held no evil for her. She wasn't disgusted or horrified at the knowledge that she was born a killer from a family full of blood on their hands. She was simply Angelus. She was who she was.

Her last thought before she passed out from exhaustion was, "Fuck, Ron and Harry are going to kill me for this."

* * *

Draco Malfoy was not surprised to find Hermione Granger passed out on the couch in their common room. He expected it of her. He knew how she would react upon finding that tome. It had taken him forever to convince his parents to mail it over to him. They questioned him to no end, even now they wondered whether it was right to send such a treasure to their only son.

Still. He wanted to say fuck it all. Hermione Granger was the Angelus. Fuck, Merlin must be laughing in his grave. He was bound to protect the one girl he would have no problem ending.

He walked over and grabbed the tomb from her grasp. It would not do to have others run upon this particular tome. He looked Granger. He knew she wouldn't talk. Her secret was safe enough.

* * *

Ron groaned as he ate chicken and wild rice soup, of all things. "Double potions with Slytherin. It's like this every bloody year. It's like the yearly curse!" he exclaimed, waving his spoon around in the air to emphasize his point, which received several shouts as bits of rice flew onto the table. "I swear by my name that Snape does it just to piss us off. If I have one more bloody year—"

"This is our last year," Hermione exclaimed exasperated as she tried to look over her notes for Potions. She tried to contain the head ache pounding in her skull. She had gotten two hours of sleep and while it did not show, she sure felt it. She half listened to her lectures and half slept in most of them. She noticed a bit of rice had landed on her notes and grimaced as she delicately flicked it off.

Ron paused for a moment considering the information. "Well, yes, of course, that's true…"

"So there's no need to complain now. Besides, winter break is only a month away, right after midterms," Hermione announced smirking triumphantly at him.

Ron groaned again. "Did you have to remind me?"

Harry grinned. "Well, you should begin studying for potions if you want to pass and do well on your NEWTS."

"I'm doomed," Ron cried and banged his head on the table, disregarding the odd looks he received from those nearby.

"Is Ron at it again?" Seamus asked shifting his gaze from his bowl to the 'dead' Ron. "He's been at it all week. It's always 'bloody this' or 'damn that'."

"Yes, well, it is considered one of his few talents," Ginny replied, joining their small conversation.

The small conversation continued until the end of dinner as they eventually figured out a way to wake Ron from his 'trauma.' ("Hey Ron, I think Lavender is looking at you.") Afterwards the three got up and headed for their next class: potions.

The class was notoriously known throughout the school. Students dreaded it even more so than before. The dungeons felt not only cold and dreary, but there was an aspect of danger, warning, in the air.

They arrived with their guards up. They were in enemy territory now. Most of the Slytherins were already in the magical classroom and the atmosphere was alert with danger. Danger was, of course, the trademark of the Hogwarts dungeons among other rather, delightful things. Hermione sat down next to Neville as Ron and Harry sat in the desks behind them.

With dramatic flare, Snape burst into the potions room and everything became deathly silent. Professor Snape was the same greasy grit from before, but now he was a real greasy grit. He no longer had to hide his death eater status, and instead, embraced it.

He stalked over to his desk and faced the class. He glared at the class and with the swish of his wand a list of ingredients appeared on the board. Placing two hands upon his desk, he began to speak.

"Who can inform me of what potion you will be attempting to successfully complete today?" he sneered in malice as if they were all unworthy of being there and as if he had better things to do.

Everyone but Hermione and Draco fidgeted in their seats. Even after seven years of lessons, the students had yet to get used to the Professor's glare which seemed to have only grown worse over the years. The two aforementioned both raised their hands. Hermione sat just as calmly as Draco did, leaning by now that enthusiasm would only receive harsh words in Snape's class. Besides, she didn't have the energy for it today.

"Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked facing Draco with a grim smile of sorts.

"We are brewing the time-location potion," Draco announced in his usual drawl of arrogance.

"Correct, ten points to Slytherin," Snape said as if everything had gone as planned. He turned to growl at the rest of the class. "Well what are you waiting for? Get started!"

The class scrambled to their own cauldrons to get to work. Hermione worked alone as did the rest of the students in the class. In Snape's words, "If you've all made it this far you should be self-sufficient enough to work alone" After gathering all her ingredients, she propped her book open and got started chopping the dried cranberries after bringing her water to a simmer.

The class period passed rather pleasantly considering it was Snape's class as her potion progressed perfectly, turning the correct shades of blue and deep red. She continued to stir counter-clockwise, keeping track of how many more she had to go before she added the dragonfly wings.

Smiling that she'd finished the last step she quickly gathered her dragonfly wings, unaware of the plans brewing about her. As she tossed in the dragonfly wings in her half dazed state, she saw her potion disappear and reappear in the wrong shade of blue.

"Oh," she exclaimed quietly before her potion exploded.

"Longbottom your inability to handle the most basic of tasks…" Snape drawled as if he had rehearsed his lines many times before, which would not have been far from the truth. When he saw not Longbottom's, but Granger's cauldron had been the one to explode, his eyes widened in surprise. He made his way over to her, his robes bellowing out in a rather dramatic flair. He looked down at her in amusement, as if he had received a new toy, one in which he would have much fun tormenting and sneered, "What is the meaning of this Granger?"

"I, I don't know professor…" Hermione replied perplexed. She couldn't understand. She did everything perfectly, how could his have happened? Her confusion did not help her exhausted state any.

"Hermione!" Harry and Ron exclaimed as they rushed over to her.

"Stop!" Snape yelled as the two boys came to a halt. "Idiots, you don't know what happened. Stand back." The two boys looked on helplessly as Snape now turned his attention to Hermione. She was currently on the floor with pale blue goop all over her. He gave a grimace. "Granger, while I knew you were always lacking in ability, I never knew you would go as far as exploding your potion," Snape snapped as he looked over the mess, calculating the damage. "It's a wonder the likes of you ever became Head Girl. Twenty points from Gryffindor and detention tonight so you can remake the potion."

Hermione gasped and her mind cleared over that one word: detention. She sat up and stared at her Professor. "But professor, I didn't do anything!" She knew this to be true, despite her tired state. She would never mess up a potion so blatantly. If anything it was be sub par to the actual potion, but never would she explode it.

"Well, clearly you did do something Miss Granger, or your potion would be adequately done and bottled by now." Snape replied with a rather sinister smirk on his face. It was clear he was getting amusement from harassing the golden girl.

"But—"

"Professor, clearly this is not Granger's fault."

The class, which by now had finished their potions turned to see Draco Malfoy sitting with a pure-blooded smirk on his face.

"And why is that Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked eyebrow raised and suspicious as to why a Slytherin would be helping a Gryffindor. His eyes spoke asked all that needed to be asked. 'You dare go against me?'

'No,' Draco's eyes replied.

Snape raised an eyebrow in suspicion and curiosity. 'Then please continue.'

Draco gave a little sneer. "Because, while it may be that Granger continually presents herself as incapable, she wouldn't be stupid enough to screw up a potion now," his gaze moved over to where Harry and Ron stood. Their faces became white. Snape followed his gaze and saw what Draco had in mind. Clearly Granger wouldn't be stupid enough to make such a novice error. Instead, place the blame where it is needed: Pot-head and Weasel. "Potter and Weasley are the ones to blame," Draco affirmed with a wicked smirk.

"And why would that be Mr. Malfoy?" Snape asked with an identical smirk on his face as he played Malfoy's game. Potter and Weasley were theirs.

"Because they switched their potions with Granger."

All heads turned over to face Harry and Ron who stood stark white like ghosts, fear clearly written on their faces. It was not Snape that frightened them, oh no, it was more serious than that. It was the blazing little girl on the floor next to him. She turned to the boys with eyes of pure fury, as if hell itself had found a haven in her eyes. If looks could kill, they would be sent to the lowest level of hell and put in Satan's mouth right next to Judas.

Snape grinned with pleasure. "Twenty points from both of you and detention for two weeks." He turned to Hermione and continued. "You are expected to attend also."

With that he scourgified the room and announced class dismissed.

"I can not believe you two," she hissed as she stormed out of the classroom. The two boys ran after her as she blazed past them. She turned her heel as the boys came to an abrupt halt. "You deliberately tried to use my work, knowing full well how much I pride myself on perfection."

"Hermione," Ron whined.

"We were not trying to degrade you," Harry cut in, knowing full well that Ron would just make things worse. "We simply thought that you wouldn't mind helping two friends in need because Merlin knows you attain perfect scores on everything. We didn't think you'd mind having one bad mark."

To say the least, she was beyond pissed now. The words would not properly formulate in her head as she shook her finger at them fuming. "Were you not such good friends I would murder you right now. As it is, I don't want to see your faces in front of me for a very long time." With that she turned around again and stormed off.

She stormed down the dark corridor and made her way up the stairs. While Hermione knew she should be on her way to Defense Against the Dark Arts, she desperately needed air, fast. Otherwise she would explode and nothing good would come of that. Her shoes clicked one by one as she finished climbing the magical stairs and made her way down the rather cold main corridor.

She could not believe them. They knew how much she prided herself on her work, and yet, that did not deter them from doing something as foolish as trying to steal her work! Steal!

It hurt. She wanted to cry because it hurt so much. To Hermione Granger, there was nothing worse that her friends could have done. They had used her for their own purposes, their own gains.

Hermione shook her head to shake away the oncoming tears and took in a deep breath; the main doors only a few steps ahead of her. She felt a sense of relief wash over her as her hand pressed against the cool oak; she was safe.

It was snowing outside when she arrived. Everything was blanketed in white and immediately she felt a rush of cold. She was freezing, but it was refreshing to her. It felt as though, if she stayed out there long enough, got cold enough, numb enough, that she would be too numb to feel all the emotion residing within her.

Her breath made small puffs of fog as her footprints were left in the snow.

* * *

He saw her the moment she walked out the doors. She looked like him, a soul seeking solitude from reality. He scoffed as he looked out at the lake again and kicked the snow. The last person he expected to be out here skipping class was Granger.

He took a moment before he looked up again and met her gaze. He had been expecting sad warmth in those amber pools. What he got instead an intensity of despair to which he had seen only a few times within his mother and father. Standing there, as their eyes locked, he felt her loneliness wash over him with such force that it almost frightened him. That's why he had called out her name. That's why he had begun to insult her.

"Granger," he said in his usual drawl.

His voice brought her back to reality and she began to once more walk towards him. One by one, her tracks falling next to another made in the snow: a pair.

"God Granger, do you want to become positively ill?" he asked as she approached him. The bitterness was there, but strangely, there was no cruelty, no hate in the air. It was strangely refreshing to her to hear someone yell at her rather than coddle her with syrupy affection. The venom in his voice resounded in the cool air, but was lost in the blankets of snow. They were both lonely souls tonight. She didn't ask him about the tome. Now wasn't the time. Now was now. Last night, this morning was of another time.

She smiled weakly at him, meeting his intense gaze once more. "I needed to get some fresh air." She paused and gave a little smirk both of loathing and amusement. "Didn't understand why it was so tainted though until I found the cause: you."

Her attitude, her smile unnerved him as he began to speak instinctively. "Fuck Granger, if you wanted to die there's better ways of doing it," he exclaimed in shock and positively clueless as to what he should say. Had she always been this girl standing before him in the freezing cold? "Like jumping off the astronomy tower, wouldn't that be a much more gratifying end for you? All this freezing to death, it's not exactly going to get you instant results."

She smiled at him and he felt his heart constrict. The sadness that loomed in her eyes touched even a frozen heart like his. What the fuck was with her today? A mudblood shouldn't be causing the slightest emotion to stir within him. Then the soft realization of truth sunk into him: she was an Angelus, his Angelus.

There was a pause, and then her smile turned in to a soft smirk. She didn't reply as she turned to gaze out that the picturesque landscape in front of them.

Seeing that Granger wouldn't reply he gave a rather un-Malfoy sigh and turned back to gaze at the snow covered lake.

The minutes passed unknowingly. The snow continued to fall from the gray sky, drifting one by one down to the white, snow covered ground. The silence didn't bother them, rather, it was welcomed. The cold had already seeped into their bodies to be of any concern and it soothed their racing minds and calmed their thoughts.

"Here," he finally said snapping Hermione out of her daze. "We can't have the entire Gryffindor house hunting my blood and screaming murder at me." He gave a smirk as if he had come up with something rather amusing. He held out his cloak to her. She simply stared at the thing startled as though her mind could not comprehend that Draco Malfoy, her rival and arch-enemy was offering her his cloak. Seeing that she wouldn't take it, he sighed and took the cloak and wrapped it around her, securing it with a pin of silver and emerald.

Then he turned to leave before she could say another word.

"Draco"

He froze and turned to look at the vixen who had spoken his name with such smoothness, with such eloquence, and with such simplicity and innocence that it made him shiver. His breath was caught in his throat and for some reason and his heart, blast his unfrozen heart, was racing.

She gave a genuine smile for the first time since she arrived. She's beautiful, Draco thought for the first time in his life. Never before had he found something so beautiful in his life. He thought beauty was himself, his mother's golden blonde hair, or even the landscape around him. Never in his life had he thought a woman, a mudblood, no a pureblood woman, would fill his mind with such beauty that he was blown away.

She stood, cheeks rosy from the cold, her amber-brown eyes bright and full of innocence, happiness, and love. She seemed alive to him, standing there in his cloak, her ginger hair tumbling down in curls around her. He had to wonder, how could anyone so filthy be so beautiful?

"Thanks."

He nodded firmly in reply. Then he turned to continue his journey back to the castle and forget the surreal scene he had just witnessed before him only minutes ago.

Thanks for Reading! Please Leave Me One!


	5. Chapter 4

Hi Hi. It's been a while huh? College life has been busy. I think I'm finally adjusting to it all.

I thought I'd get this chapter up. I'm a little worried about the flow and characterization so if you find anything weird, tell me! It's longer than the previous chapters, at least, I think it is, so call it a treat. This is for all you guys who wait patiently for the next chapter and have stuck with me so far. I love you all! XoXo Hee Hee

Please, Read and Review!

Chapter

She wasn't sure how long she stood out there before she decided to leave. She didn't feel cold anymore. Instead, she felt warmer than before. She fingered the brooch, an emerald encompassed within silver folds, which held the cloak tightly around her. She looked once more at the lake and then turned to make her way in.

Draco Malfoy. She didn't know what to make of him anymore. They were enemies; she knew this, yet she realized that somewhere along the line, somewhere during the past few weeks, the lines had blurred. She still walked straight, but she wondered where the line she walked truly led.

Wasn't it just yesterday they had thrown insults at each other? Well, he had been avoiding her, but if he hadn't been they surely would have. How was it that a man who could cause her so much pain could offer her so much comfort as well?

When she first saw him, she was surprised. She didn't believe anyone else would be out that night, alone in that dark cold, but there he was, staring out into the distance like a lost soul. How she envied him. She wondered if she couldn't be frozen like him too.

A part of her wanted to question him about last night, this morning. She wanted to ask him why he had so freely given her such deadly knowledge. Another part though, the part that prevailed, didn't want to disturb the odd calm that had been placed upon them, so she gave in, freely.

His words, while still bitter and cold, felt less so. It was as though she could ignore it, tolerate it. It didn't mean they liked each other, it was just that while they hated, they knew there was a time and place for their hate. That afternoon wasn't it.

Once inside she took off the cloak and gently folded it over her arm. It was a gift after all and it wouldn't do for her to treat it without care. She made her way to her rooms.

She paused in front of a painting which portrayed the four seasons. Currently it was in winter. Appropriate. Inside the painting was a little sprite. She smiled. "Snow Flower." The small sprite giggled as the portrait moved to reveal the Head rooms.

She set the cloak down on Malfoy's usual reading place where he was sure to find it. She sighed as she plopped into her red and gold couch. What was she going to do about Ron and Harry? Perhaps it was a good thing she was angry at them. It allowed her to ignore the problem for a while, something she seemed to be doing a lot of lately.

Still, as she sat she couldn't feel at ease. Something still bothered her, and she couldn't figure out what it was. She wondered as she watched the bewitched embers burn within the fireplace. Shaking it off as nothing she prepared to retire for the night.

* * *

His Dark Mark started burning soon after his parting with Granger like he had expected. He hadn't even made it to the forest when he nearly cried out in pain. He hissed as he clutched his forearm. The Dark Mark burned and his Lord demanded his arrival. Cursing about the inconvenience of it all, he apparated to his Lord.

He found himself in an open field with trees surrounding the boarder. It was dark and he could barely make out the ground in front of him. It seemed as though he had arrived in a land without moonlight because he couldn't see its silvery glow anywhere. He didn't worry about his disappearance from Hogwarts. If someone questioned his whereabouts, his house would create his alibi. The Dark Lord saw him and smiled. "Ah yes, you have arrived."

Draco approached and bowed, staring at the dew-laden grass beneath him.

"Rise Young One," Voldemort hissed and Draco did so. Their eyes matched. In that moment he made a decision, one that could possibly get him killed in the future: he decided to hide the Angelus from the Dark Lord.

It was not to protect the girl. No, that was stupid. It was for his own benefit. This information needed to be hidden until the right moment. Satisfied with his scan the Dark Lord turned to the crowd.

"Tonight, another joins our ranks. He shall prove himself worthy by ridding us of the blood traitor who dared to seek Dumbledore's help and proclaimed that the Angelus was dead."

Draco's eyes flashed at the mention of the Angelus. She lived. He now knew she lived and the fact that this traitor had dared to say that she didn't, well, it wouldn't be a good day for him. He bowed once more to the floor. "It will be my pleasure Lord."

_

* * *

She cried. The tears would not stop as she sat up in the astronomy tower where the stars seemed to shine brighter, colder. She sat on the cold stone floor with her arms folded over the window ledge which held her as she shed her crystalline tears. They fell, one by one into a moonlit-pool around her. _

_That's how he found her, a lost soul in white crying to God for forgiveness, praying for salvation. She shivered as the tears left her, as if it were her warmth that was gone. The silk nightgown trimmed with lace did little to warm her._

_It was then she saw him. He let out the breath he realized he had been holding in. She shifted her head to regard his form as tears still flowed silently down her cheeks. Her eyes were blank as she sat in her own sorrow, in the dark, the cold._

_He went to her. He could not resist running to her. He kneeled in the cold pool of saltine tears and with his right hand, cupped her left cheek. With one movement of his thumb, he wiped her tears way._

_So lost was she that he could not help it. He kissed her so gently, so softly, as if giving her his strength to live and she took it. The moment lasted forever. The angel's breath upon her lips gave her the strength and will to live as he kissed her sorrow away._

_The tears had stopped. She looked at her angel whose skin glistened with pale moonlight and eyes were of emerald green. She knew._

_No words were spoken, but each understood. Things had to stay as they were. Nothing could change. Slowly, she got up and stood a moment with him, dark and light, Gryffindor and Slytherin, connected hand in hand. Their small hands let go and the world suddenly became colder…_

* * *

"Fuck" he thought as he ran from the pursuing Aurors. Fucking Aurors. He slid to a stop as he became surrounded. They stood in the shadows so that he could only see the faint outlines of their forms. He stood, wand arm ready, waiting for his pursuers to attack.

Oh, he'd fulfilled his mission alright. The bitch had squealed like a pig when he killed her son first, and then her baby daughter. He had his revenge. The Angelus lived.

Afterwards, the Aurors came. He had just enough time to light the house on fire and run for it. The bastards had put anti-apperation charms around the house so he could do nothing but run until the charm ended or he was out of its range. He curled and uncurled his left hand into a fist to release some of the energy he was feeling. His arm twitched. His eyes darted back and forth. If it was a fight they wanted, he was going to give them one they'd never fucking forget he thought as he saw various hexes flying towards him.

* * *

She woke up with a start. Something's wrong. She rubbed her eyes as she looked about her room. She sat up and grabbed her wand. "Lumos" A warm glow emitted from its tip as she put on her slippers and walked out into the hall.

Her feet had a mind of their own. Her breaths caught in her throat as she blindly began following her intuition. She felt panicked, like something was about to happen, something horribly wrong. That's when she saw them. There, in the corridor at three in the morning, kneeled Professor Snape and Blaise next to something she could not make out. There was a flash of silver blond. That's when she knew. "Draco."

They whisked around to face the Head Girl clad in only a silk night gown and a dim wand for light. Snape sneered as he quickly stood, his reflexes kicking in. "I don't see how this concerns you Miss Granger."

He was right. This was not of her concern, yet a part of her screamed that it was. She looked down to Draco Malfoy once more. His hair stuck to his face with blood and his pale features were even more so. His eyes were closed and his breathing shallow. It wasn't as though she cared for him. Her life would probably be easier without him to constantly plague it. Why would she care if another Death Eater die?

_Because…he's your Death Eater_ a part of her replied.

She reached out her hand to try and brush Draco's hair out of his eyes when Snape blocked her. Her eyes flashed at him. "Move aside."

Snape, furious, glared down at her, "What right do you have to order me?"

A part of her was surprised. He was right. She had no right here. It wasn't her business. Yet, she looked back down on the blond and realized that he was the one who told her the secret she had been missing all her life. She couldn't continue living a Hermione Granger, muggle born intellectual forever. She closed her eyes to regroup her thoughts before she opened them and started blatantly at Snape.

"Because you know damn well that I'm the only one who can save his life," she hissed back eyes ablaze. If what she read was right, she had the power to save him.

She closed her eyes and then took a deep breath. It was now or never. She pulled up her slip.

Both looked at her in shock. "Miss Granger, I fail to see how…" Snape began and then voice died down as his eyes locked onto her right thigh. Blaise followed his professor's gaze and froze. There was the Angelus crest.

She moved quickly as the two said nothing in protest. As she kneeled down beside him, his necklace caught her eye. She paused and pulled it gently from beneath his robe. It was the mate to her own pendant. She looked up at Snape to inquire the meaning of it.

"He's your guardian Gra—Angelus," he finally replied bitterly put out that he didn't realize it sooner, that know-it-all Granger, Head Girl, and the first child he'd seen more brilliant than Marcus, turned out to be his daughter, the Angelus.

Suddenly it clicked to Hermione, why her soul had been sorrowful, in pain. It all made sense now. He held her life blood within him. It was a part of her soul that had been crying out to her just then.

She began to move. She dropped her wand and began to assess his injuries without it. "Low blood pressure, internal bleeding, broken ribs, hex after-effects," she muttered.

Physical injuries were fixed first. Her magic rushed out to him as she corrected all that she could from him arms, to his legs, she put her essence within him.

She felt his heart, and it pulsed weakly. She moved above him and, after a second of contemplation, pressed her lips to his. His mouth opened and she breathed into him her life chasing away the darkness that had tainted his pure heart.

She moved to the binds. A push came to repel her efforts and she bit her lip so she would not scream. She tapped into her life's blood within him and with his faint aid, pushed the darkness away. A light flashed in her mind and then everything seemed to fade away…

_

* * *

Draco stood across from her: an angel, his Angelus. Her eyes were downcast. Her eyelashes teased him. Her hair was wild. She fascinated him, his angel, his Angelus. The air was cold. He could see his breath. She slowly gazed up and her chocolate-amber eyes stared at him so intensely that he felt her soul wash over him. _

_She took a step towards him. Her cream dress fluttered in the wind. She was surreal, like a goddess…foreign to him like love. Slowly she raised her arm and he couldn't move away, so captivated by this goddess he was. Her hand touched his heart, and he fell into an abyss of darkness. _

_Pain shot through him and he cried out. A pain burned on his lower back and he looked, only to see the wings of the Angelus crest burned upon his porcelain skin…_

He woke grabbing the crest around his neck, a necklace of the Angelus. The crest was simple: an angel wing with a snow flower in front. It was given to him at birth as an indication of his guardianship, his duty. When he was born, he had been made her guardian by baring their family's crest on his lower back and exchanging his life blood.

Life blood was the greatest gift one could give to another. By exchanging his life blood, he was losing a part of his soul, a part of him. Of course, it forever connected him to the Angelus, but even his parents were surprised when the Angelus required it. The rite was done rarely, even between the pureblooded families.

He sighed as he thought back on his memories. His mission had never begun. Soon after the exchange their daughter, his ward, disappeared. Marcus and Lillian Angelus passed away in battle without revealing her whereabouts, so the world went on believing the Angelus existed while the pureblooded world was at a loss. He grew up believing in her existence. She just kept eluding him, like his dreams, forever disappearing at his touch. Now that he had found her, well, it wasn't exactly as picturesque as he once believed it would be.

"I see you are awake."

He looked to see Serveus gazing at him with silent fury.

He gave his Professor a puzzled look until the events of last night came back to him. He wouldn't have been in this state if it wasn't for the stupid Auror. He was about to make a clean escape when he was hit by a nasty hex from behind. He did the best that he could to fight, but he was drained, physically and mentally. He couldn't remember exactly how he arrived back at Hogwarts.

Snape stood up made his way towards Draco contemplating his every step. It was only after he had gathered all his thoughts and carefully chosen his words that he stopped in front of Draco and gave him a rather nasty look. "I will not ask you the specifics of your mission, only that it was accomplished. However, it was foolish of you. Had it not been for Granger—"

"Granger?" Draco hissed glaring at Snape. "What does Granger have to do with all of this?" As he said those words though, terror froze his heart. Snape knew. He knew that Granger was not actually a Granger at all, but the Angelus.

Snape raised an eyebrow at him as though he were amused that Draco did not know this fact. "She saved your life."

The Professor gave him a look which Draco returned with a cold, hard stare. He knew that the Professor knew that Draco knew, but he wasn't about to prove or disprove this fact. He'd let his Professor guess as to how much he knew ahead of time.

Still, he couldn't believe she used her powers in front of them, for her first time too. He groaned mentally as he massaged his temples. He would have to warn her about that. She couldn't go healing every bloke who ended up in front of her in rather bad shape. Besides, she didn't have the type of control she needed to perform such magic, especially without him. He was suppose to be her hold to this world when she preformed her magic so that she didn't give too much of herself up.

Still, his heart had strangely raced at the mention of her name. The image of her earlier that night flashed in his head, her coldness, her white beauty. Despite her empty eyes, she was radiant, a goddess. Her lips were rosy pink along with her cheeks from the cold. Her ginger hair had tumbled down her back and over her shoulders wild, just waiting to be tamed. _Damn her_ he thought. _Fucking mudblood. _Then he corrected himself. _Fucking Angelus._

He pushed his thoughts aside and looked back at Snape. "Where is she now?"

"She's in the common room on one of the divans. She passed out after…healing you. We thought it best to lay her down," Snape replied as he waved his hand to indicate the door. "Blaise is currently watching over her."

Draco nodded partially in appreciation and headed out to meet his rather unlikely savior, his Angelus.

She slept on the large, dark emerald-green couch by the fire, a place of honor. It was considered to be the Slytherin "throne" of sorts. He couldn't help but raise an eyebrow. It seemed the Professor was giving her an honor indeed. Blaise sat watching from a high backed chair further away from the roaring fire. All was silent except for the occasional crackle from the fireplace.

"Draco," Blaise said nodding his head in greeting. He set his book down.

"Blaise," Draco replied sitting in a chair next to him. His eyes became harsh as they landed on her. He looked to make sure she was unharmed. Before him came the Angelus; she should have been more careful with herself. He shot a glance at Blaise and then decided to play it safe. "How is the mudblood?"

Blaise raised an eyebrow. "The question is how are you? It's only been an hour since she's healed you."

"I'm fine," Draco replied curtly. He looked at Blaise and met his gaze. "How much did you see?"

He understood the question. "I was there when she did it."

Draco looked down once again at his Angelus and paused. "How bad was I?"

There was a pause. "I didn't think that you would make it."

Draco took in a breath. "What did she do?"

Blaise ran a hand through his hair in apprehensiveness. He wasn't sure how to present the situation. "Had it been anyone else in this room I would have screamed and cursed them to hell for keeping it a secret from us, but Granger…"

Silence filled the air. "What did she do?" Draco asked firmly once more.

Blaise sighed yet again. "She preformed healing magic I've never seen before in my life. She used her life's blood on you Draco, life's blood."

Draco stared at him. She used her life's blood? Was she fucking insane?

"Why didn't you stop her?" he hissed, furious that she had done such a stupid thing.

"You didn't see yourself Draco," Blaise replied in a whisper somewhere between despair and fury. "I thought I was saying goodbye to my best friend that night, so when I saw Granger, no the Angelus, waltz up to heal her guardian of all people, who am I to stop her?" There was a pause. "I couldn't watch you die."

Draco looked back at Hermione. She slept quietly with drops of sweat covering her brow and her cheeks looked flush. Her hair tumbled down around her and he realized that the she was clad in only her nightgown. He looked to see the crest he knew was there.

With the Angelus name came great power. They were killers, beautiful, deadly killers. It was an honor to be killed by an Angelus. It meant that you were successful in frustrating the Dark Lord thus far. They were the right hand of the Dark Lord, almost as forbidden to speak of as he himself, referred to as one family, one unit, the Angelus.

He'd found her. After all those years of looking, waiting, he finally grabbed her; only, it didn't turn out how he wanted. His Angelus had turned out to be mud-fucking-blood Hermione Granger.

Fuck, if he wasn't sure the gods hated him already, this would be all the proof he needed. Karma was a bitch.

* * *

Hermione felt the brightness of the morning sun through her eyes as she woke. She slowly opened them and blinked a few times, refraining from stretching out like a cat. She closed them again.

"So the mudblood awakens."

Her eyes flashed open and met his. She continued to lie on the couch as he sat in a high backed chair on the far side of the room. The rising sun shone on his pale skin and his hair glowed in the sunlight to show a golden white tone not normally seen on him. The fireplace contained nothing but ash and the room was devoid of people except for the two of them.

Their eyes were both calm. It was a strange phenomenon that neither lashed out at each other. They both kept their fury in check.

She broke contact first as she stood up and walked towards the door.

She froze when he stood and began to move towards her. Her breath caught in her throat when he pressed up against her back; their flesh burned. She couldn't protest when his hand slid up her thigh and his thumb caressed her crest roughly, his calloused finger feeling like bliss upon her smooth flesh. His breath upon her neck was distracting, the warmth of his breath making her dizzy. His other hand slipped firmly around her waist, holding her against him.

"My Angelus," he murmured against her hair. She didn't move; she couldn't. She was frozen and overcome by this feeling so strange and foreign to her. She could feel his relief, happiness at finding her. It was such a polar opposite to his hatred that she was stunned into shock.

Slowly his hands dropped and he broke away. Her dam of emotions broke through and she began to realize what he had just done. He sat on the coffee table next to the divan she had been sleeping on.

Their eyes met and his tenderness was gone. His eyes were cold, dead again as they locked onto hers. She held his cool gaze as he examined her.

"How could you do such a stupid thing last night?" he whispered, eyes blazing with cold fury.

"Stupid?" Hermione snapped back in much the same voice, furious that he would question her, challenge her on something so trivial. "You were dying Malfoy. What the hell was I suppose to do?"

He wanted to reproach her and tell her that she shouldn't have saved his life, but he couldn't, and he was angry that he couldn't. She met his gaze and challenged him to say it, say that she shouldn't have saved his life. Her eyes flashed with victory. She knew she had won.

"I'm surprised Malfoy, that you have nothing to say for yourself," Hermione said to the man sitting in front of her. "I mean, with that mouth of yours—"

"Which has done things to make girls scream in pleasure numerous times," he replied back casually with a glint of amusement in his eyes. He wasn't about to let her have her fun.

She scoffed. "I'll bet my right arse you did."

"Really, you can do that?" he asked. She shot him a glare as their eyes met. He had a rather wicked look of both amusement and frustration on his face. "Because I could have sworn—" She slammed her hands on the table. She had had enough from him. He gave her a rather lazy grin. "Really, you shouldn't do that, it'll—"

She slammed her hands once more on the coffee table and he simply sat coolly, meeting her furious gaze. "You are insufferable. Did you know that?"

"Of course," he replied with a small smirk. She glared at him and eventually the smirk faded away. He crossed his arms looked at her with a cold gaze. The humor held in them previously was gone. "Now that we're understood, I propose a truce."

She blinked, too surprised to react any other way. "A truce?"

"You know, a kind of stalemate, an agreement, an—"

"I know what a truce is," she shot back glaring.

He simply gave her a smirk in reply.

Her glare never lifted. "What's the truce?"

"It is my duty to protect you Angelus, but that does not mean it will be agreeable to you or myself. I shall be as amicable as I can while protecting you Angelus if you will only grant me one thing," he finally replied.

"What is it?" she asked meeting his cool gaze once more.

"That accompany me the next time I am called."

She knew what he meant. Of course it was clear. He wanted to take her to the next Death Eater meeting. She understood his wish, but her heart froze in silent fear. "I can't."

He didn't reply. He simply turned away and looked out at the morning sun.

"If I don't attend, will you be punished?" she asked quietly. She knew she was asking a stupid question, a question to which she already knew the answer, but she had to hear it from him. She hated him and she could care less about what happened but still…

There was a pause. "It is most likely." He saw her hesitance and continued in his usual drawl. "Gran—Angelus, it's not like he can kill you. That would be like killing pureblooded royalty you dolt. So there's nothing but good in it for you."

She heard his next line, unspoken in her mind. "But if you don't go, that wouldn't apply to me." She sighed and looked out the same window Draco had been gazing out of. The sun was shining brightly over the lake and a few students lingered on the grounds.

She finally looked back at him quietly, with a mild look of contemplation on her face. Fine. Damned conscience. "Call me next time."

He turned to stare at her for a bit, as if contemplating her sincerity or her motives for agreeing. Finally he nodded. "Your protection will be seen to."

She coughed as she tried to suppress a laugh. He glared at her knowing exactly what she had just done. She simply met his glare. "I've done just fine for the last seventeen years. I'm sure I can take care of myself."

She looked to the divan next to her and saw her school uniform along with other various necessities there. She quickly scooped them up. "Where's the bathroom?"

He looked at her in question for a second before realizing the purpose of her inquiry. "It's over there," he replied, pointing behind him.

Hermione charged past him without a single thought, making sure to roughly shove him as she made her way to the Slytherin's bathroom.

"Bitch" he scowled as he grabbed onto his arm.

Five minutes later she was out of the bathroom changed and in her robes. "I'm going down to breakfast," she exclaimed and went out of the rooms before Draco could say a word.


	6. Chapter 5

Hi Hi All. I'm sorry that I got this chapter out so late. I guess real life caught up to me, but…  
Happy New Year!!

This chapter is longer than the previous ones and I hope you enjoy it. I worry a little, as always, that my characters are OCC, so if they are do tell me! This was a hard chapter to write and I know it doesn't hold much plot, but I hope you enjoy it. I'll try my hardest to get the next chapter out soon! Thank you to all of you who have been following this story! You guys always light up my day.

Disclaimer: Same as always.

Chapter

Their next encounter took place in Defense Against the Dark Arts, or DADA as the students of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry called it. Only the muggle students seemed to vaguely recall that the acronym of their beloved class was the same as some bizarre muggle art movement in the early twentieth century.

The teachers decided that the students needed a place to vent their frustrations in a controlled, safe environment. The solution was to combine all houses into a triple DADA once a week. Thus, the seventh years had fewer outbursts because students would continually dual for their pride and be done with it in the classroom, not outside the classroom as many of the younger years did.

Today was another one of those sessions and, as always, the tensions ran high.

Teachers were always present, usually Professor Lupin along with Professor McGonagall and, on occasion, even Snape. His presence usually resulted in less violence for one reason or another.

"Alright, all those who have a personal quarrel know to write the names of their opponents on a slip of paper, no cheating, and insert it into the hat," Professor Lupin announced and students began making their way to a hat which looked much like a replica of the Sorting Hat. Some speculated it was a close cousin, or even brother, to the one used in the sorting ceremonies.

Students stood around a massive circle. The circle was split into four sections, so that each house stood within their respective slice. It made for less fist fights outside of the official duels and also served, on a smaller note, to show how divided the school was.

When all slips of paper were placed inside the hat, the hat was set on a stool by the professors. It calculated the number of times a name was listed and then randomly selected a name from the pile, usually beginning with the most…offensive person first.

"Draco Malfoy," the hat shouted out and there was a brief cheer from the other three houses. His name was almost always called out because one person or another always had a quarrel with him.

He stepped out onto the arena and another five students stepped out also.

"Wow, Malfoy upset a lot of people today," Hermione whispered to Ginny and she nodded. Despite her argument with the boys the other day, Ginny had remained firmly on Hermione's side and ratted the two out. To say the least, it was nice to have a good friend.

"Nah, remember that one time he pissed off the whole Ravenclaw team?" Ginny replied pausing to recall the memorable day. "This is nothing compared to that."

The five stood on one side and Malfoy stood on another. She spotted Pansy in the group and wondered what Malfoy did to upset her. There was always a girl in his opposing group. Probably the girl that ended up being his "flavor of the week."

"Malfoy, as the victim you may choose to duel all your opponents at once or individually," Lupin announced always in formality because everyone knew Malfoy battled every time.

"At once, Professor," he replied smirking.

There were a few gasps, but all in all everyone knew to be amazed at Draco's dueling skills. Even the first years talked about it. To watch Draco Malfoy duel as the seventh years did…there would certainly be more than one first year, second year, third year, hell, even a fourth year that would give up their wand to watch Draco Malfoy duel and, quite frankly, kick ass.

On the count of three, all six were off and bets were flying around the room on who would win.

"I'll bet you a galleon that the five will win," Ginny exclaimed as she watched Malfoy dance his way around the hexes and curses being thrown at him.

"I'll bet you two that Malfoy will win," Hermione replied amused as she watched Malfoy play with his duelists. He was allowing them to have their fun, even feigning injury, but to her and the teachers, it was quite clear that they were aware of Malfoy's actions because McGonagall continually rolled her eyes in exasperation and Snape smirked in amusement, Draco Malfoy was simply putting on a show.

The finale began with Malfoy taking out Smith and Thomas with a stunning hex and taking the other two out by erecting a reflecting spell, which sent their curses back at them. Then he smiled at Pansy and said, "Because you're the cutest," before knocking her out with a fainting spell. He then bowed, as always, and left the stage.

"Well then, thank you for an excellent duel all. I want you each to take ten minutes to write down notes on the duel so you can write on six inches of parchment what techniques were effective and which weren't," Lupin announced and the students all took their notes while whispering about the whole duel.

"Silence!" McGonagall ordered approximately ten minutes later and the whispers died down. The next round was about to start.

"Ronald Weasley and Harry Potter."

A collective gasp rose up in the crowd as the two stepped up. Who would dare to challenge the two golden boys of Gryffindor and practically their whole school?

Hermione Granger stepped up and another gasp erupted as whispers burst forth about their quarrel in Potions and one went as far as to suggest that it had something to do with a secret lover.

"Hermione?" Ron asked horrified. "You're the one dueling us?"

"Of course," she replied back. "I thought this would be a nice, clean way of regaining my honor, the honor which you both have tarnished."

Harry looked at her with accusing and hurt eyes.

"You're not going to even scratch me so don't bother trying to talk me out of this one," she replied, wand ready. She was confident. It wasn't personal. It simply a matter of wounded pride and this was means of regaining it.

Silence followed as the three gazed at one another. A stale clap rose from the crowd and all turned to see Draco Malfoy approaching the stage. They all stared at him as though he was insane, and he shrugged.

"Well I can't allow you to have all the fun Granger," he exclaimed and with that Draco Malfoy hopped back onto the stage.

"Malfoy, what are you doing up there?" McGonagall asked horrified that Draco Malfoy would be assisting her prize pupil.

"Let's just say I have a personal vendetta against these two. Why don't we just leave it at that," he replied with a smile. It seemed so genuine that it threw Hermione off, and she couldn't think of a reply. She simply obliged Draco and turned to face their opponents.

Another gasp and more whispers circulated around the room that it must be the two are lovers and that Harry and Ron had tried to prevent them from seeing each other.

"You're not helping much," Hermione whispered as she heard the rumors. So much for getting this done and over with quickly; now they'd think the rumors were true.

"I know, forgive me," Malfoy replied giving her a smirk. "Just didn't want to have my Angelus beaten up. You know, it comes with being a Guardian," he said sarcastically while rolling his eyes exasperated. His eyes though turned rather soft as he said the next line. "If you wanted to get at them for what happened in Potions you could have told me; I would have dueled and hexed the shit out of them for you."

Hermione stared at him stunned and didn't know what to say, so much so that she could only dodge the oncoming hex thrown at her after Lupin shouted three.

She watched and saw that Ron had chosen her as his opponent. She spared a glance over at Malfoy to see he was simply engaging Harry and keeping him busy until she was ready for him.

"What, too fast for you Potter?" Malfoy taunted as he dodged a hex.

"No, just too arrogant," he replied as a slicing hex nicked Malfoy on the arm.

Hermione glared at Ron. She would have to get rid of him before she made her move against Harry.

Ron looked at her angry. "You know, it's one thing to yell at us in the common room, but it's another thing to make this whole thing public."

"You're the one that made it that way when you stole my potion!" Hermione hissed and hit him with a binding spell. He fell to the ground like a rock.

She turned to Harry and Malfoy simply stepped out of her way. "Ladies first."

She looked at Harry with fury. He backed up, knowing to expect the worst, so it surprised him when Hermione sighed. "You never get it."

"What?" he asked perplexed as another binding spell hit him.

Hermione looked up at Malfoy to see him already looking at her. "A bit less cruel and revengeful than I would have liked it, but well done."

She swore someone snorted in the crowd. "Sod off Malfoy. I'll deal with you later."

"Oh fun, that means we're in for a long night, if you know what I mean" he announced with a wink to the crowd. Whispers flew at light speed and Hermione groaned as she walked back to the Gryffindor side. This was not going to help things one bit.

* * *

She met him in the Room of Requirement. It was a quaint room, simple yet refined. There was a coldness to it, despite the roaring fire in the far corner. There were chairs, sofas, desks of cherry wood and various silks, and residing in one of those was Draco Malfoy.

He sat with his back towards her, staring intently into the fire. She saw that the cut on his arm had been healed, and he seemed, all in all, his normal, usual, arrogant, prick of a self.

"You're late Granger," he exclaimed without even looking at her.

"It's Angelus to you," she shot back glaring at the back of his chair.

He looked over at her smirking as she sat down. "I'll call you whatever I want, _Granger_."

She glared at him from her seat. She refused to say anything in response. It seemed childish of her to do so, so she chose another childish antic: pouting.

"Don't pout Granger. It doesn't suit you," he stated exasperated and stood up.

She braced herself and shrunk back into her chair. "Draco Malfoy, what are you doing?"

He made his way toward her and leaned towards her face. She shrunk further into her chair and closed her eyes. When she finally peaked, she saw Draco Malfoy giving her the coldest look possible.

"While I may act as nice as Harry-bloody-Potter outside of this room, inside our room I'll show you just how much of a bastard I can be," he hissed. He made a sound of disgust and turned around. "Get up; you might as well learn pureblood etiquette."

The room instantly changed into a lavish dinning room, one she could envision the elite witches and wizards of society dining at. The table was ridiculously long and had a gold table liner. Various plates and dishes were spread out upon the table and she knew she was in for hell tonight.

"Come here," Draco instructed as he stood in front of a massive wardrobe. She cautiously made her way over to his side and he presented her with a beautiful white dress robe. "Change into this. When you're dining, you'll be wearing the finest of things Angelus. You might as well practice in this now."

She nodded glancing at the robe, trying to piece together what it would look like on her. She took it and went to a dressing room that was conveniently placed next to the wardrobe. She began to marvel at the wonders of this room and wondered what else it could conjure.

Once she tried on the robe, she gasped.

"Malfoy, there's no way in hell I'm wearing this!" she screamed from inside the room.

The robe was of pure white and hung on her shoulders. It dipped in front and continued to flow down to the floor. The matching shoes and jewelry was all too much. This wasn't her. Hermione Granger was a jeans and t-shirt kind of girl. Not some fancy ballroom dress robe kind of girl. But then again, the back of her mind said to her, perhaps Hermione Angelus is.

"Granger, you are going to wear that dress, come out, eat, and look damn good all at the same time or my name isn't a Malfoy," he barked back full of malice.

She imagined murdering him in delightful ways all dealing with a slow and painful death. Still, when she had the dress on her, she couldn't help but admit that she looked damn good as Malfoy put it. The dress fit her perfectly and the white only made her hair look darker and golden. It was rather lovely. Still, the shoes killed with their four inch heels, but she was grateful for all the comfort charms laid upon them.

"Granger, I haven't got all day," Malfoy complained.

She took a deep breath and then went out to face the dragon Malfoy.

"Grang—"

He couldn't help but stare. The words left his mouth as his eyes roamed over his ward. He had seen his fair share of girls, but she outshone them by far. Never before had something so simple looked so elegant. While other girls flaunted everything they had shamelessly, Granger had something about her. Perhaps it was the pretty little blush she had on her face or her modesty, but something about her made her seem beautiful to him.

She passed by him silently, not daring to meet his eyes, and headed for the table. He regained his senses and followed her. She paused and reached for the chair when she saw it move on its own. She looked and saw Malfoy had pulled it out for her.

"Never touch a chair yourself Granger. Pureblooded women always wait for a gentleman to seat them," Malfoy instructed as Hermione sat down.

He moved to sit down himself and Hermione stared at the plates and utensils in front of her. There had to be about three of each utensil and just as many plates.

"While dinning and table manners are one thing, the role you play at the dinner table is another," Draco explained. With the wave of his hand the table was filled with chatting people, people whom she knew to be Death Eaters. "As the Angelus not only are you the hand of the Dark Lord, but the eyes and ears also. You must find who you can rely upon and who you can not. Find out their secrets, and yet, you must entertain your guests in front of you," he explained giving a cheeky smile as he indicated to himself.

"I don't suppose you were listening to what the Lestranges were talking about just now were you?" Draco asked and Hermione tuned in over there, overwhelmed by the amount of information she had to take in.

"Don't worry about the Angelus, I've got it covered," said Bellatrix Lestrange to Macnair. "That chit of a girl doesn't know what she's doing. It'll be easy to point the damage onto her."

"But—"

"I know, loyalty to the Angelus is the highest, but what does a muggle know about wizarding affairs?" Bella replied and gave a wicked laugh.

"Do you see what I mean?" Draco explained. "You are at a disadvantage Granger because many purebloods will not take you for who you are simply because they've known you to be a muggle all your life. You'll need to work to prove your worth in our circle."

Hermione nodded and the illusion ended. The table and guests faded away until the original room came back into place.

"I'll meet you here again in two nights. Practice at meals what I have just taught you," Draco said looking critically at her, as if analyzing if she could accomplish her given task or not.

Their eyes met; his were critical and hers were full of irritation. Fine, he could just be that way.

"Alright then, I'll see you in two days," he announced dismissing her as he walked out the door.

She wanted nothing more but to strangle him, but instead she closed her eyes, took deep breaths and counted to ten. Then she walked out the door, repressing her rather murderous thoughts.

* * *

The next day at breakfast Hermione Granger could not help but put Malfoy's words to use. She couldn't help but overhear that Lavender had another crisis which involved a certain Terry Boot, all while she was in a full blown discussion about what happened in DADA yesterday.

"Hermione Granger," Ginny announced as Lavender was wailing about how she turned the corner to find Terry jumping on Katie Bell, his tongue down her throat. "I demand to know what is going on between you and Draco Malfoy."

All heads turned and even Lavender paused in the middle of her pity cry to listen to Hermione's reply.

She gave them all a dirty look. "There is nothing going on between me and—"

"Hermione!"

She whipped her head around and gasped as Draco Malfoy flaunted towards her with the biggest smile on his face. She couldn't speak as he came up behind her and wrapped his arms around her neck.

"What are you playing at Malfoy?" she hissed as he leaned in next to her ear.

"Just doing my duty," Draco replied with amusement in his rather cold voice.

"Hermione, remind me to make you angry again sometime. Last night was, well" he trailed off adding an innuendo to the end. His eyes met with her and suddenly everything clicked and Hermione said the most un-Hermione thing of her life.

"Oh, hell no. There is no way—"

"Hermione Granger. You're having illicit sex with Draco Malfoy?" Ginny screeched which succeeded in halting all conversations in the Great Hall. All heads turned fully to the "couple" and waited for their reply. For a Gryffindor, sworn enemy of Slytherin, to be doing…rather intimate things with the enemy…well, it wouldn't be a happy sight.

He blinked at Ginny, giving her the most innocent look a Malfoy could possibly conjure. "You didn't know?"

All hell broke loose and teachers rose from their seats. Girls were sobbing that their "Drakie" was having sex with someone so unworthy, Hermione still held her title as the Virgin Princess of the century, and others were in an uproar about the traitors. Slytherin saw it as perfectly fine so long as she was for pleasure, but the other houses all labeled Hermione as the enemy.

"Fuck," Hermione moaned as she put her hands on her head.

"It's okay Hermione. We'll get through this," Draco said supportively, patting her on the back.

She looked back to glare daggers at him and she could see only mirth in his eyes. That son of a bitch…

* * *

Her day had been hell, pure hell. As she walked through the hall students gave her looks and her fellow house members wouldn't even talk to her anymore. No one asked her for an answer and she didn't speak all day. Teachers gave her various looks from outrage to amusement. She suppressed her thoughts of killing Draco Malfoy and continued her day like any other student, if that was even possible.

She didn't think it could get any worse, but as soon as she saw Harry and Ron turn the corner she knew she was going to hell.

"Hermione," Harry said coldly as the two paused in front of her.

"Harry, Ron" she replied in the same clipped tone.

There was a moment of silence until Ron couldn't hold his frustration.

"How could you?" he accused as his voice increases a few decibels. He raised an accusing finger as he continued. "How could you go behind our backs and do that Hermione? And with all people, Draco Malfoy?" he screeched, fury abounding. "You're sick you know that? Sick"

"Ron, that's enough," Harry said putting a halt to Ron's little tantrum. He gave Hermione a look, one which hurt more than Ron's angry words. "I thought I could trust you Hermione."

She stared at them helpless. She wanted nothing more than to reach out and hug them, but she stood frozen in place, unable to lift her arms, unable to move her legs.

With that the two walked on and Hermione was left in the hall alone to nurse her oncoming tears.

* * *

She could not retain her fury when she saw Draco Malfoy next. She spotted him in the hall as she went to her Charms class. She did not hesitate as she stormed over to him, the hall empty of students.

"You planned this all along didn't you?" she hissed as she approached him, finger pointed and ready to kill.

He held his hands up in defense. "It was convenient."

"How so?" she asked accusingly as he backed into a wall. She gave his chest a not-so-delicate poke.

"You needed to get away from Potter and Weasel and by sleeping with me all problems are now solved," he replied grinning.

"That doesn't solve the fact that the whole school has been on my case and wants nothing more than to stab me in my sleep and drag me out to the quidditch pitch to burn on a stake," she hissed as she forced him into the wall harder.

Their eyes met, hers accusing and his grew hard. "Do you really expect everyone to welcome you with open arms when you are discovered to be the Angelus? Get real Granger. When you come out it won't be the whole school that'll be after you, it'll be the whole wizarding world."

He stepped out of her grasp and started down the hall. "So get used to it."

She could only stare as he retreated down the cold corridor.

Hermione could not help but hear the truth that rang in Malfoy's words. The whole wizarding world would be out for her blood, and it was all because of her name. She would lose the friends she grew up with and make new ones. She would have people out to kill her and she would have those that would save her, for their own benefit more than her own.

Hermione has always known the world was cold, but now she was beginning to realize that the world was a lot colder than she had ever dreamed.

* * *

They met the next day in the Room of Requirement. As before, Malfoy was already in the room when Hermione entered. He didn't say hi. He didn't even acknowledge her presence. He stood up from his spot and walked over to what looked to be a small dinning table, much like the one Hermione had at her own home. She took the cue and followed him. She stood waiting for him to pull out her chair. He raised an eyebrow at her.

"I was paying attention," she replied.

"Of course. I'd expect nothing less of the Head Girl," he replied pulling the chair out for her. He seated himself soon after.

They sat for a while in silence. Hermione could do nothing but stare at her hands. Every time she looked up she met his piercing gaze. He was looking at her so closely, so piercingly that she couldn't bear to look. It was painful to do so.

"What's the game Malfoy?" she asked looking up once again after mustering all her courage. She stared at him and met his gaze. She refused to look down this time.

He smirked. "At least you know how to put on a face. That'll make things much easier." He stood up and began to walk around. "See, today you'll learn all about faces. I'll make you want to cry, hide, give up, but you're going to give me a smile and convince me that you really want to smile."

She looked at him in anger. That was an emotion easy to convey at the moment.

He smirked. This was going to be either rather easy, or very hard.

He began to circle around her. "Granger, dear, I want to see you smile."

"It's Angelus to you Malfoy," she replied with the fakest smile on her face. Her eyes were glaring daggers at him.

He snickered. "You'll never convince the Dark Lord like that." Her face flickered. He caught the emotion: fear. "Ah, yes, you're beginning to understand. Your life may depend on how convincingly you manage to convey your feelings. If I say happy, then I want to see you happy Granger."

"Hermione," she replied quietly.

"What?" he asked, rather confused at her sudden word.

"Hermione. Call me Hermione. You're my guardian after all. Then you can stop calling me Granger and you don't have to call me Angelus," she replied meeting his gaze. After a slight pause and some hesitance clearly written on her face, she gave him a smile, a brilliant smile.

He was stunned. He was positive she was still hesitant, perhaps even a little scared at how he could possibly throw this hand of friendship back into her face, but all he could see was her smile. It took his breath away. It was such a small smile. He'd seen ones so much more brilliant, but looking at hers, it was different. It broke his heart.

Still, he kept a face of indifference and smirked. "I'll think about your offer, but don't go thinking that you can call me Draco anytime you want now."

She smirked. She saw through his façade. He wouldn't care if she called him Draco at the right times. She'd just have to remember there was a time and place for it. At the same time she knew he'd still call her Granger, but it gave her hope that he'd perhaps take her up on her offer since he didn't reject it either.

God, he stared at her. He couldn't do it. He couldn't put her through shit tonight. He couldn't rip that pathetic smile off her face, and he couldn't simply crush her spirit. He knew how she felt right now, because on some level, he felt it too. He knew her small hope, and he couldn't bring himself to blow it out. He couldn't.

He let out a sigh. A small one, but Hermione caught it. She knew its significance. Something was up, something enough so that he let his guard down.

"Let's go over general etiquette. The boring stuff," he explained as he sat back down.

She nodded, willing to go with whatever he had planned. She wasn't about to push him off the edge.

"There are levels, a hierarchy of sorts in the Pureblood world. You, my dear Angelus, are at the top of that hierarchy. The Dark Lord is not of our world, and he knows this, but you are not to look down upon him. He will not tolerate it. We amuse him, much like adults would amuse a child," he paused and gave her a small smile.

"Due to this hierarchy of sorts, you are not to look up at anyone because you are at the top of it. You are the one that begins all conversations, and you are the one who ends all conversations. When people approach to speak with you, they will first go through me, and with your permission, they will speak to you," he explained staring intently at her. She looked at him and nodded.

In a flash the room transformed once more. This time it was a ball room. She could see that it was a social event. Her attire changed to another set of dress robes this time in chocolate brown and Malfoy's robes were different also.

He held his arm out for her and she grabbed onto it. As they approached the center of the ball room, the crowd parted for their entrance. Her eyes gazed over the crowd, never lingering too long on one person, but long enough to know who was there. As she walked, someone approached. She looked to see that it was Bellatrix Lestrange. Draco met her gaze to ask how she would act. She tilted her head down slightly to show she would be spoken to. Draco stepped out of the way.

"My Lady," Bellatrix Lestrange said when she approached. She paused to bow deeply.

"What to you want Bella?" Hermione asked in a hard voice. It was neither warm nor cold. She did it so that Lestrange would get straight to the point.

Obviously, it worked. "Dear Angelus, while I understand our Lord's reason behind choosing one so precious to lead our mission, I can not help but wonder if someone with more…experience would be better suited for the role. It is our will and purpose to serve you Lady. I believe discussing this is in my Lady's best interest."

Her eyes flashed. They were questioning her authority? She knew that she was at a disadvantage. Draco had made this point quite clear at their last meeting. She knew they looked down upon her for growing up in the muggle world, ignorant of pureblood ways. Well, she would show them that she could play their game.

"Bella, I appreciate your kindness. What would you have me do?" Hermione asked in a cold, sweet voice. It was one that would put Narcassia Malfoy to shame. She spoke Lestrange's first name because it was not age that mattered here, it was rank, and she knew that her rank was much higher than that of Lestrange.

Lestrange gave a cold smile. "Leave this mission to me Angelus. I will ensure its success. Rodolphus, Macnair and I have come up with a plan which will both please our master and yourself Angelus."

Hermione gave a cold smile. She now knew the names of those who opposed her and a vague idea of what their plans were. "Thank you Bella for your concern, but this is a mission appointed to me by our Lord, and I will ensure that it is seen through."

With that and one final look to warn Lestrange that she was not some ignorant muggle school girl, she followed Draco's lead and walked to the back rooms.

After the door closed, the scene ended. He looked at her mildly amused and perhaps even impressed. "You know, your whole demeanor changes in that room. It's rather impressive, unpolished, but with a little practice we can make it work."

She smiled. She had been so scared, so scared that she would fail, so scared that she would disappoint him. She had succeeded instead, well, not quite, but it felt like that to her. "I tried."

He gave her one final look before he pushed off and walked towards the door. She watched him as he walked off, never once looking back. He back looked so cold to her. She couldn't break through to him. Then he paused at the door and gave her one glance back. "You did well today Granger." With that, he opened the door and left her alone in the room of requirement with only a roaring fire for company.

* * *

The week pasted in much the same fashion. Most of the school continued to ignore her, others decided to continue and make her life hell. Others, a small number, tried to help her by walking with her from class to class and other small things which made her life easier.

She met with Draco twice more during the week. They continued to practice keeping faces, both in public and private. He challenged her etiquette and knowledge of pureblood society. She enjoyed the challenge, despite its difficulty, because it helped get her mind of off her real life and the hell which surrounded it.

Still, Defense Against the Dark Arts was going to be a bitch. She stood on the outside of the circle in the Gryffindor section with a foot of space around her in all directions, as though she had a plastic bubble surrounding her in which no one could penetrate. She felt the various glares and looks as people wrote her name and put it into the hat.

She just stood and tried to concentrate on breathing calmly. Still, her fury was getting to her. Perhaps this duel would be good for her.

"Alright everyone, silence!" Professor Lupin shouted as he grabbed the hat. The students quieted down immediately and eagerly awaited the name which would be called first.

"Hermione Granger."

There were cheers among the crowd, even from her own house. Far more, it seemed, than Malfoy had ever roused after the first day. She approached the stage to face her opponents. As she approached she saw much of the seventh year student body do so as well, many of who were of the female population. She silently cursed in her head as she kept on a calm face. Her opponents numbered fifteen.

"As victim, you may choose to fight all your opponents at once or separately," Lupin announced politely while giving Hermione a look telling her not to do it.

"All at once," she replied coldly and gasps sounded from the crowd. She was taking on even more than Malfoy ever had at once, with exception perhaps of that one time he took on the Ravenclaw team. She looked through the crowd and saw Ginny. Her eyes pleaded her not to do it. She looked at others and saw the same look or ones of glee, glee that she was getting what she deserved.

Then she looked and saw Malfoy, of all people. Their eyes met and his were of fury. They burned with anger, anger at what she could guess, that she was stupid enough to take on fifteen to one odds. Still, while they burned so fiercely, there was something else, something more. There, she spotted it. There was worry.

"Don't be stupid Granger. Keep your wits about you and if you're going to bloody get yourself killed, at least go out in style," his eyes told her. She felt them burning her skin.

She glared at him to reply back. "I'll be fine. Don't worry your prissy little pureblooded head off."

The whistle blew and she attacked. She sent hexes to those nearest to her, first the Ravenclaw girl on the left and then another Ravenclaw on the right. She knocked out a Hufflepuff and dodged hexes here and there. She tried her best to avoid getting hit, but she couldn't help but hiss as she felt a slicing hex cut into her left shoulder and another into her right calf. Still, she managed to take those who threw them at her out of the game and continued an aggressive offense.

At the end of it all she was exhausted and bloodied. Still, she remained standing as Lupin announced her the winner. Her opponents were lying on the floor around her, some conscious and some not. She was victorious.

She closed her eyes and felt herself caught before she had even realized she was falling. She opened them to see that she had nearly collapsed and was caught by none other than Draco Malfoy.

"Granger," he said his voice cold as ice. "If you ever do that again I'll bloody kill you."

She gave him a rather weak smirk. "Yeah, but I did a good job."

He didn't say anything. He simply pulled back, and she looked to meet his gaze. There, for the first time was warmth. His eyes held warmth for her, however small. It made her whole body feel warm.

He wouldn't say it, but he was proud of her. He was proud that she could hold her own in fifteen against one odds, but he couldn't bring himself to say it. If he did, he'd have to suffer her sugary affection, her joy at his praise. So he kept that thought to himself, only to have it reflected in his eyes for the briefest moment.

As soon as she saw the look in his eyes, they were gone in a flash too soon replaced by coldness. "Don't think you can go waltzing into any fifteen verse one duel anytime soon now. You're lucky they didn't kill you."

Irritated, she pushed him away and stood up. "I can hold my own," she shot back. She began to walk towards the doors. The class stood silently as they watched the drama unfold. She knew Malfoy was trailing behind her.

She continued to walk down the corridor without throwing a glance back. Her shoes clicked on the stone floor. She could hear him behind her, following her every move, as if waiting for a chance to pounce. He was now the predator, and she was his prey.

Soon enough, as they turned the corner, he grabbed her and pushed her against the wall, effectively pinning her with his two arms. She glared at him. She knew he was going to be childish but not this childish. He simply glared back.

"Granger, I consider myself a patient man, a logical one even, but if you ever pull a stunt like that again, I will make sure to personally kill you myself, even if that means bringing you from hell simply to send you back again," he hissed.

She glared at him and stayed silent for the longest time. Then she whispered, "You're not my keeper" and, as he loosen his grip, she walked away.

* * *

He waited for her that night as always. As he sat in his chair, he thought of all the things he could do to punish her for her insolence.

It was not that she didn't do well or that he believed she couldn't hold her own, but something else, something foreign to him: worry. His heart felt like it was going to stop more than once during the match. Every time he saw a curse fly at her he sucked in his breath and held it. He forgot to breathe as he watched her get hit. That's why he was so cold. He needed her to know she was never to do anything like that ever again.

She entered the room fifteen minutes late. She rushed through the door out of breath and shaken. She had run from her room to the Room of Requirement after having forgotten their meeting. She had been engrossed in a potions assignment when she remembered and rushed down here. She knew she was in for it the moment she entered the room.

"Granger, you're late," Malfoy drawled as he walked over to her from his usual seat. She stood by the door bent over, hand to her chest, trying to catch her breath.

"I'm sorry. I was in the middle of a potions assignment. I was researching various properties of the Luna Flower and it was so interesting that—"

"Do you really think I care Granger?" he asked and her voice stopped. She stood and stared at him and his cold eyes glared at her. "Do you really think I care about your pathetic excuses?" he hissed. Her blood ran cold. "I take precious time out of my life to help save your pathetic ass from the hands of our lovely, blood-thirsty pureblooded society, and you have the nerve to show up not five or ten, but fifteen minutes late?"

She was terrified to say the least. She had never seen Malfoy like this. Frustrated, yes, angry beyond belief, yes, but never had she felt his wrath like she was now. She was furious.

"It's only fifteen minutes! Yes, I know it is my fault, but that gives you no right to scold me like this, like a little child!" she cried. She walked up to him, and raised her hand to slap him.

He grabbed her wrist and pushed her against the door. "Listen Angelus and listen closely because I will only tell you once. It is my job to ensure your safety, but if you fail to obey my rules then I will make your life hell. I'm sure you understand." He said as she shoved her harder against the door. She would have bruises on her wrists for the next few days.

She glared at him, and for the first time, felt more hatred for Draco Malfoy than ever. "Crystal." With that she pushed him off and walked out the door, slamming it loudly behind her.

He stared at after she had left and realized what he had done. Fuck. It was going to be a hell of a long week.

* * *

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	7. Chapter 6

I can not ask for forgiveness! Thank you all for patiently waiting. I'm not sure how frequently I will be updating from now on, but I shall try to write whenever I can. Life of a college student I guess!

Thank you all for your kindness, especially those who left me reviews. You guys all give me so much love. Thank you again and I hope you enjoy!

Chapter

A week passed and Draco Malfoy was not a happy boy. It was the last day of midterms and the last day before the winter holidays. One would think he'd be overjoyed, and he would be, except for one thing: Hermione Fucking Gra--Angelus.

Oh, he didn't realize it the first day, or the second, but by the time the third day rolled around he started to suspect something. So he tried hunting her out. The result? He couldn't find her anywhere.

He tried to search her out, only to never find her again, and again, and again. To say the least it was slightly irritating.

He let out a rather uncharacteristic sigh as he walked the halls of Hogwarts. He thought back to their last encounter. He hadn't met to be upset with her. Truly. He still couldn't figure out why he was so upset at her late arrival. It was nothing, really. Ten, fifteen minutes was nothing. Yet, when he thought about her that day, he was so frustrated, and to some extent, worried.

He had denied at the beginning of the week that he could possibly be worried or even care about the well fare of Hermione Granger, but by the time Thursday rolled around he was ready to face the truth: He, Draco Malfoy, was worried about Hermione Granger.

He felt the first pangs of worry that day of her duel. He felt his heart stop as she fought an amazing duel. He couldn't remember the number of times he forgot to breathe, forgot to think as he watched her. Any hex could have hit her, just one could have ended her life, well, were it not for the protection spells placed upon everyone, but still, that was all beside the point.

She was breath taking. She was dangerous and lovely all at the same time. She moved with such grace and precision, not letting the number or the odds deter her in anyway.

He knew that's why he was so on the edge that day she came to their meeting fifteen minutes late. He didn't care that she was late. He actually thought it rather Hermione to be so engrossed in her work that she forgot the time. During those fifteen minutes his mind told her that she was fine and that she was probably absorbed in a new text she had found, but his heart, no, his soul, panicked. He began to wonder if there were any nasty after affects to any of the hexes she had been hit with in the duel. He began to worry, and thus, in his worry, he let out his emotional build up, his frustration and his fear to be taken out on her.

This did not, by any means, mean that he was becoming sentimental, soft towards her. On the contrary, he just felt that she was now someone he had to take care of. She was now his responsibility. She was his ward after all and he her guardian. This is what he told himself. He told himself that it was only natural to care about the well-being of someone whom is in your care. She was like a child: someone you care for due to their dependence upon you, whether she be your child or someone else's.

So he decided to inform her about their plans tonight when he popped in on her patrol unexpectedly. That part was quite easy. He switched with Daniel McMaster of Ravenclaw so he 

could be with his girlfriend instead of out doing patrols. He couldn't say it was brilliant, but it was rather convenient.

It wasn't hard to find her. She stood in the hall by the library clearly waiting for McMaster so they could begin their rounds. The look on her face made his efforts worth while as he stood next to her.

Hermione looked over when she heard the approaching footsteps thinking it was McMaster. When she saw it was actually Malfoy, the Malfoy she had been successfully avoiding all week, she was rather startled and surprised. She was not avoiding him like a coward, she refused to be a coward, rather, she felt there was no longer a need to put up with his snotty attitude. Thus, in a school that large, there was no need for her to see Malfoy out of class. She simply took different routes, ate her meals at different times, and hid away in the dark corners of the library when Malfoy was in their common room. She knew it was too good to be true when he stopped searching for her two days ago.

She stiffened. She refused to show how startled she was. "Malfoy."

"Granger," he replied back coolly.

She bristled. His tone was all too familiar with her. It was a clear sign that he had something else up his sleeve. "Well, now that we've gotten over formalities you'd best be on your way."

She looked at him and saw that he was looking rather casually at the wall. He looked over and their eyes met. He grinned.

Inside she panicked, knowing that look all too well. "Malfoy, where's McMaster?"

His grin simply grew and that's when Hermione knew she needed a way out. Screw it all, she thought. She couldn't run, couldn't fake ill, couldn't do anything without it being blatantly obvious to Malfoy that she was trying to escape, and her ego would not allow him that satisfaction.

"Oh him? I traded so he could be with his girlfriend tonight. It is their three month anniversary after all. It wouldn't do for them to be apart," he causally replied as he looked at his fingernails.

She glared at him as if to say this was entirely his fault. At that moment, he was happy that he wasn't McMaster. He knew once she got her hands on him…well, he was done for to say the least.

She didn't say any more. After one last glare she turned and led the way. They walked. He exactly three steps behind her, but it seemed more out of formality than mockery. He was simply allowing her her space. _Click Click Click. _ The sound of their footsteps echoed down the dark corridors of the school. When she paused, he paused too and they continued in this fashion until they reached the astronomy tower.

"Granger," Draco finally said breaking the rather calm silence. "You'll be attending Malfoy Manor this winter holiday."

She stopped and turned around to face him for the first time since rounds began. She stared at him. Before fury, a quiet shock settled into her. "You must be mistaken," she quietly replied, unable to form the proper words to tell him off.

She didn't want to go to Malfoy Manor. She wanted to go to the Burrow, like she did last holidays. She couldn't go home and face her parents. She would feel like a lie. She would look at them and realize that her life was no longer a part of the muggle world and that hurt.

She realized that the Burrrow was a lost cause. She would be surrounded by people who would soon become her enemies as Harry and Ron had become. Still, she longed for the warmth 

she had felt there last holidays. She longed for the warm embrace of Mrs. Weasley. She longed for the aroma of deliciousness that filled the house on Christmas day. She missed the opening of presents, the rambunctious affair it became with that many children, not to mention the twins. She longed for a place to call home.

Besides, she was tired, tired of listening to Malofy. She was tired of his antics, his mixed signals. She was tired of obeying his every command, following him around like a lost puppy.

Draco ignored her. "While at Malfoy Manor you shall be re-educated on your etiquette. I'll be damned if the only Angelus daughter knows nothing about pureblooded etiquette because Merlin knows I'll burn in hell for it."

"You must be mistaken," she repeated quietly with a firm edge in her voice. "I'm staying here for the holidays." She met his gaze. Her eyes were quiet, but firm. His bright eyes full of mirth slowly turned to confusion and then to anger as she slowly turned around and began to walk way.

He took two steps and grabbed her wrist, turning her around. "What makes you think you can just walk away Granger?"

She stared at him as though the answer was obvious. "I'm my own person."

"You're Angelus," he replied coldly. "You are ours."

There was a moment of cold silence. With one last look at him, she looked down at her wrist. She stared at his fingers as though they were burning her and slowly she began to pry them off one by one. There was a cold, silent fury surrounding them. So much so, that Draco dared not argue with her. He knew he had pushed too far. To push her further would only be madness. She finally pried the last finger off and allowed her arm to fall by her side.

She met his gaze once more. No one would have noticed the small amount a fear that rose in him were they only looking at his face. Outwardly, he looked as calm as possible. He looked cold, indifferent. Only his eyes betrayed him, the flash of fear, surprise and awe all gone in a second. She was beautiful.

"I have played your games," she began simply. "I have listened and learned your ways, but hear me, I will never believe in them. While my blood may be pure, my mind and my heart are not. I am not a killer, I am not a murderer, and I am not about to take my place within your pureblooded society as a little princess."

Another pause of silence. They stood not a foot from each other. The moon was high and the night cold. They could feel the winter air chill their cool skin. She looked every inch the killer she was meant to be, and he looked every inch the guardian of this beautiful angel of death.

"I expect to see you at twelve o'clock sharp tomorrow. We leave then."

With those words he left her. The only sound being his shoes echoing upon the hard marble floor.

* * *

She packed. It took only an hour really. She didn't pack much of anything. She knew she couldn't bring any of her muggle clothing. They'd probably burn it. It was such a shame too. She was rather fond of her clothing. So, besides her school bag, all she had was one small bag of robes, all standard issue, none even close to designer, toiletries, other small things, and she was set.

She sighed as she sat on her bed. Malfoy Manor, mansion to the richest pureblood family in Great Britain and home to the Dark Lord's most faithful follower. What would it be like residing within a home who has seen various dark arts come and go?

She knew it was likely that her birth parents resided there at one point in time. Still, as she sat on her bed, she couldn't understand why she decided to obediently go. She was still furious with Draco. She knew for a fact that she had never despised, hated a person so much before in her life. She wanted nothing more than to kill him in the most slow, painful way possible.

She loathed him because he was her only connection to her true identity besides her name. She couldn't change her name, but she could change her person. She could forever live on as Hermione Jane Granger and allow the Angelus name to die along with her. It would deliver a blow to the Dark Lord and would benefit the wizarding community.

Nevertheless, a part of her wouldn't allow that either. She was never one to run away from her problems, and another part of her, somewhere deep inside wanted to know who this person, Hermione Angelus really truly was. She wanted to know who Hermione Angelus, who she, could become. She wanted to discover more about her hidden past, her lost identity, this person she should have been and could still be, which was probably why she silently agreed to attend Malfoy Manor over their winter holiday despite her continuing feelings of bitterness against Draco Malfoy.

She met him in their common room. He was already there with his bags when she arrived. She didn't greet him when she arrived, nor did he greet her. They simply exchanged looks and left. Without a word he levitated his bags and began to walk toward the entrance. She followed behind him carrying her lone bag.

They walked in relative silence down the stone hall. The hall was filled only with the sounds of their shoes clicking on the black-grey stone. There was no one else save for them. Everyone had already gone downstairs, eager to begin their holidays.

There was no need for a façade, a spoken lie. After the scandal, it would not be surprising that Hermione Granger would be spending her holidays with Draco Malfoy, especially when she had no where else to go. At least, that's what people whispered in the halls. It was rather scorned and looked down upon though by those of his own house, the thought that a Malfoy would bring something, well, someone, so dirty to so prestigious of a house, but no one was about to say anything to a Malfoy. At least, not to his face. Those of the other houses simply wanted nothing to do with the likes of Hermione Granger. She was too far gone, too deep in the darkness to be saved. They saw her as a lost cause and often spoke of her regretfully, as though they had lost her already, her brilliance, her talent. She was dead to them.

Thus, Hermione's popularity plummeted even further as she walked out into the sunlight of the courtyard. She held up her arm to shield herself from the brightness of the sun overhead. Malfoy had already made a point to take her bag from her before they exited the school and was currently flaunting his mannerisms in front of the entire student body.

Hermione could only plaster a smile to her face as she faced the crowds of people who halted their conversations to turn their heads and simply gaze at the rather odd couple. Hermione Granger, previous golden girl of Hogwarts, ex-best friend of the Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley, the pride of the residing teachers and friend to underprivileged peoples, was walking with her lover, Draco Malfoy, prick and headmaster killer extraordinaire.

Again, it did nothing for Hermione's standing in the Hogwarts community.

They entered the Hogwarts Express together and shared an apartment. Everyone knew which apartment they were in and the older students would guide the first and second years away from the said compartment so that there would be no unfortunate incidences on this train ride 

home. It would have been an unfortunate incident to explain to the child's parents why the said child could not speak or was currently spewing up slugs.

To say the least, Hermione felt like the Plague. She felt like a disease no one wanted to contract. She felt like she was the muddy puddle people swore about when they happened to accidentally step in one. Simply put, Hermione felt like shit. Worse than shit. She felt like the container that held the shit and that had to be a pretty shitty state.

Her, what guardian? Captor? Master? Prison guard? Spoke not a word to her the whole journey back to platform eleven and three quarters. He did not look at her. She did not exist to him. Oddly, to her this stung even more than his insults, his fury and anger. At least with his fury she knew she had his attention and in an odd sense, his care. His indifference though frustrated her. She was a living, breathing human being. She was not something to be ignored like an object lying on one's desk. She demanded if not respect, attention in the least.

She wanted to see his eyes look at her with something other than indifference. She closed her eyes as she paused from gazing at the passing scenery on this bright, sunny winter day. She began to conjure images, images of the past month. She saw the look he gave her that day after the duel. She saw the look he gave her that day of her lesson, when she met Bellatrix Lestrange. That look that was not quite warmth, but it was not the indifference he gave her now, she longed for it despite all reason because she knew it was the closest thing she'd ever see to a smile from him.

She opened her eyes once more as the train came to a halt. Malfoy took their bags and began to exit the apartment with Hermione following closely behind him. To those who saw, they looked close, in love. She followed closely by him as he held out his arm to guide her to the awaiting carriage. To her, she had never felt further from him.

Thus, when they finally entered their awaiting carriage of silver, she began to speak.

"What do you want from me Malfoy?" she cried in the softest of whispers. "You have taken everything away from me. You've taken from me my family, my friends, my name, my life. You make me feel nothing and everything all without a word. What more could you want from me?"

It was at this moment he looked at her. For the first time that day, he looked at her. He looked at her with a contemplative look upon his porcelain face. Had he truly taken so much from her he wondered. It was obvious that he took her friends away. He purposely alienated her from them to bring her closer to their side and closer to him, her only ally in this strange web of human interaction. He had taken her name. He knew the name Granger no longer held any meaning to her. However, had he taken away her life?

In a sense, he supposed that he did. That in itself would be devastating, so he was rather surprised to find she had held up so well. However, he was giving her a new one in exchange, one that held many more possiblities and "what ifs." He knew Granger would eat it up. Still, he wasn't sure whether to be proud or disgusted that she was even asking him this question.

"I want nothing more, Angelus, than for you to open your eyes and see yourself for who you truly are," he finally replied after minutes had pasted. He figured being civil would have much more of an impact than anger. Besides, he wasn't going to give her the fight she wanted.

She was rather irritated, she found, that he had been so civil. However, what he said ___intrigued_ her. To see herself for whom she truly was. It should be a simple task, and yet, she felt it to be impossible. She could not open her eyes to what was happening around her because to do so would mean that everything she had learned, everything she had believed and her whole life 

that she had lived to this point would have been a lie. She would have to face the fact that she was living a lie. She was a lie.

She kept her eyes closed. She wanted to hear nothing more of what he said.

Thus, the rest of the ride back to Malfoy Manor was spent in silence and quiet, rather sobering, sorrow.

* * *

"We'll be arriving at Malfoy Manor in approximately fifteen minutes. My parents will already know of your arrival. They know not of who you are, but I am to assume that they have guessed," Malfoy explained as they passed by fields of snow. She could imagine that in the spring they would be filled with wild flowers. Miles and miles of them. Yellow, black and purple.

"You are to show your abilities and make it so I do not regret my lack of discipline upon you. You will be humble for they are your superiors for now, your mentors and guides in this world of purebloods. You can be assured of their loyalty to your name as you are of mine."

She looked at him when he said this and she saw that he was gazing at her with a look of judgment, as if he were assessing how well she would respond to his words and how much she would take to heart.

His loyalty. Was it truly worth so much? She had never thought of him a loyal before, but it made sense when one thought of it in an "I'm saving my own neck" context. Of course he could be nothing but loyal to her. This brought a rather crude smile to her lips, as though the thought was both amusing and grotesque to her at the same time.

He said nothing further to her as Malfoy Manor came into view. It was every inch the gorgeous mansion she had imagined it to be. It was ancient, but not unkempt. The pillars and stone reflected their antiquity while they reflected a type of majesty of the present time.

It was also unsurprising to her that Narcassia and Lucius Malfoy were standing at the entrance of the ancient home.

They stood together like the pillars of the regal mansion and reminded her of one solid unit. She almost envied them for their unity and sense of togetherness. She longed for what she had once more, her past.

The carriage stopped and she waited as Draco exited the carriage to greet his parents. She watched through the tainted windows as he approached his mother and father with such warmth. There were no open arms. There were no tears and no laughter, but she could see the warmth and love in such a reunion spoken with eyes and small gestures. She had to turn away from its brightness.

Hugs and kisses were exchanged between mother and son as Hermione waited. She closed her eyes. She wanted nothing to do with it. So when the carriage door opened, she was unprepared.

She opened her eyes to see an expectant Draco hold out his hand for her to take. Something about his hand seemed so warm to her. She had nothing. She was without a purpose in life. She was without an identity. She could not live a lie anymore. She could not return to her previous life, her past. She saw this hand as not an offering of assistance, but as a spark of hope, a hope of warmth in this cold new world she had entered. She saw that extended hand as his offer to aid her in the coming months, years. She saw his hand as warmth and she took it.

She exited the carriage every inch the pureblood princess she should be. Even in her standard issue school robes, even in her everyday hair and face, she looked like the Angelus she was.

Thus, when she exited she saw both Malfoys bow to her.

"Welcome home Angelus."

* * *

Thank you all! Please leave me one!


	8. Chapter 7

Hi all. I know it has been forever. Forgive me.  
I guess I got caught up in life.  
I truly wanted to thank all of you who have added me to their favorite's list and have taken the time to review this story even after it has been so long since I have updated. This chapter is for all of you.

As a side note, my spell check has not been working, so I have done my best to proof read this story. If I have failed in some parts, forgive me.

Thanks once more!  
-Bubblemilktea

Chapter

"The girl is too old," exclaimed Narcassia Malfoy she, her husband and her son sat in the parlor. Lucius Malfoy sat in a chair by the fireplace as he smoked a cigar, the lighting dim with cascades of orange and red from the fire place, the room saturated with smoke. Lady Malfoy stood looking out the window as Draco sat on the love seat facing the fire. "She has too much to learn for a girl her age."

Hermione had retired to her chambers soon after their meal. She knew what they wished to discuss. They wished to discuss her.

The Malfoys had been pleasant enough. They said nothing of her clothes, nothing of her heritage or her past, but they also spoke nothing of the present. She knew their confusion. She was a mudblood turned pureblood. She knew that in their eyes she was not pure. She knew nothing of their world. She was not of good society. Thus, she knew that the Malfoys were rather perplexed as to what to do with her. They were to be her guardians and guides in this world of purebloods, but it was difficult to care for a ward they knew so little about, someone who in their eyes was an outsider.

Thus, when it was polite enough to dismiss herself, she did so with the utmost speed.

She wanted to hear nothing of the conversation which would ensue.

"She learns quickly though," Draco replied. "Everything you saw today she has learned in the matter of a month, perhaps only a few days. We haven't had the opportunity to meet frequently."

"Learning is not her problem right now," Lucius Malfoy interjected breaking his silence. "She has no standing in our society outside of our own. She lacks the authority that comes with one's years." He paused and shared a look with his wife. "They will not respect her."

There was a contemplative silence as the members of the Malfoy family thought of their current situation.

"We are faced with two problems then. She is too old to learn our customs as efficiently as she would have at a younger age. She has no experience playing our games, being a part of our world. At the same time, she is too young. The older generation will not respect her for her name alone. She is at a disadvantage then. To gain that advantage, she will need not only know our laws, our rules, but she will have to excel and outdo them all at their own game." Narcassia Malfoy announced. She looked at her men. "We will begin immediately tomorrow."

* * *

Hermione awoke the next morning with sunshine streaming through the large French doors of her new residence. She knew where she slept. She slept within the highest ranking purebloods of English society, if not European society. The Malfoys showed every inch of their wealth in her very room. The bed itself was massive with piles of silk in rich gold and ivory surrounding her. She gazed at the gauzy canopy above her. The room was gorgeous. She could tell the embroidery of her silks was done in gold and silver thread of the finest quality and the pearls which adorned her covers were real. Then again, she expected nothing less of the Malfoys.

She slowly made her way out of bed to look further around her room. Last night, Hermione had been too tired, if not physically then emotionally, to properly look around. Besides, the room radiated differently in sunlight than in moonlight. Before, it shimmered in shades of pale silver. Now, it sparkled brilliantly from the sun beams which entered her room.

Vast dressers and wardrobes spanned one wall and in another section of her room sat a small sitting area in which she could attend to intimate guests. There was a love seat and another matching high back chair next to it with a fire close by and vast windows with the sheerest of silk drapes.

She looked in one of the wardrobes to find it empty save for one gown; her belongings were not to be found. It didn't surprise her. She didn't expect to keep them. They were no longer of her world.

She made her way to the bathroom to find a huge circular marble tub fit to swim in. There was a glass shower in one corner and a vast vanity on the other. She quickly got ready by washing up and donning the dress robes she was expected to wear.

The dress robes were nothing extraordinary, but she felt the difference from her old robes. They were cut differently. They were made of higher quality material. They were simply not for your everyday witch.

She stood before her door, contemplating what could be outside. She knew very well that within her room it was her domain and that the Malfoys would not bother her unless necessary. Outside, however, was a different matter. Thus, she stood before the door, rather awkwardly, hand partially outstretched to reach for the door.

She slowly gathered her courage and turned the knob. The hall was dim compared to the brilliant radiance of her rather sunny room. This is not to say it was gloomy, rather, unlike the warmth of her room there was something darker. She felt the power of the ancient house surround her; a loss of innocence which her newly furnished room held.

She made her way down the hall, trying to recall how she arrived at her room. She remembered the small house elf named Daisy who had led her there last night. The house elf had explained that the Malfoys had given Hermione her the north wing of the mansion on the third floor and told her about what a great honor that was. Apparently the north wing had the best view of the grounds and had the most sunlight. Besides that, as one went higher in the mansion, they were more respected, so that a person residing on the first floor was beneath those residing on the second and so on. Daisy explained that the Mistress and Master lived on the East wing of the third floor and that the Little Master Malfoy lived in the West.

She looked around her in the hall and saw paintings lining the walls. What surprised her was that not all the paintings were of magical origin. She saw paintings of the Renaissance, the Impressionists. She saw Monet and Rubin along with magical painters acclaimed for their lifelike representation of the world.

"Angelus,"

Hermione paused and turned to see Mrs. Malfoy down the hall quite a ways, her eyes downcast and her upper body bent into a small bow. Her mind began to race. She tried to remember her lessons as she returned the bow. When she saw satisfaction in Narcassia Malfoy's eyes, she knew she had made the right move.

She waited as Narcassia Malfoy made her way to her. "I am happy to see your robes fit. I could only guess at your size Angelus."

"Thank you for your kindness," Hermione replied with the expected answer. She waited to see what more Narcassia Malfoy had to say before speaking. She didn't want to give more information than necessary about herself.

Narcassia showed no sign of approval for Hermione's behavior save for the slight look of joy in her eyes. "Angelus, may I only hope to serve," she replied appropriately. After a pause she continued. "I meant to seek you out, Angelus, in hopes that we may go shopping."

"Shopping?" Hermione asked puzzled, reverting back to her former self. For the first time since Narcassia Malfoy had spoken to her, she was thrown off. She wanted to go shopping?

Narcassia couldn't help but smile. "Yes Angelus. I had hoped to go shopping with you so that you had a proper wardrobe in which to present yourself to our society."

Hermione understood. She was, in the most muggle terms, going to get a make over.

"When do we leave?" she asked.

"I hope to leave not long after breakfast, if that is agreeable to you Angelus," she replied with a small nod of her head to show her respect. It created a distance and established roles. She was not to be her new mother, but rather a guide in this new world.

Hermione gave a small sigh. "Please, call me Hermione," she whispered quietly so that anyone less aware of their surroundings would have missed it. The name Angelus held with it so much power. She still winced inwardly whenever she heard it.

There was a pause. Both stood still, a few steps away from one another. Hermione could feel the shift in Narcassia's mood from joyful to somber. It made her nervous.

"While I may take the liberty to address my lady by her first name in the future, I shall refrain from doing so now," Narcassia finally explained and paused once more. "It is my wish to help the Angelus to realize her position in our society and the power she wields."

Hermione understood. This was Narcassia Malfoy's way of training her. With Narcassia Malofy every conversation was a lesson, a test to her skills. This was her way of telling Hermione that she was above Narcassia in both rank and power. It would not do, at least for now, for Narcassia to call Hermione by her first name.

They spoke no more as they made their way to breakfast. Together they walked quietly to the dining hall. When they arrived there was a small table with a meal spread out for two. It meant that she and Mrs. Malfoy would be sharing a meal together. She knew she would not see Draco or Lucius Malfoy today.

She felt empty without her gaudian's presence. She was not lost, for that would imply that she could not determine her position, determine up from down in this pureblood world. No, she was not lost, but empty. Draco was the only person who remained constant in both of her lives. He existed when she was Hermione Granger as the arrogant, stuck up pureblood who would call her names for being muggle born. Now, he existed still existed as Draco Malofy, the prick, even while he was her guardian and protector. She felt empty without that familiarity, that someone to ground her in this new identity. Despite their opinions of one another, Draco was the one who led her to this home. She felt as though he should be addressing her needs and that he should be the one to be constantly with her to ground her to this new world.

Thus, she ate her meal in relative silence as she contemplated her thoughts. She was rather sure Narcassia Malofy was doing at the other side of their small table.

After breakfast, they did not adorn cloaks and travel through the floo. They did not wander through the streets of wizarding Britain or apparate to some unknown location. No, instead Narcassia Malfoy led them to the Parlor where upon entrance, a dozen or more wizards and witches stood.

"Ladies and Gentlemen, thank you for your arrival. May I introduce to you our Angelus."

Each one of the wizards and witches bowed with deep formality to her. Hermione could do nothing but stand in shock. She knew these were designers for brands she had heard of before. Hermès, Yves Saint Laurent, Gucci, Christian Dior. Each came to her, one by one, taking her hand, introducing themselves and what they would be designing for her. Each looked at her with respect and, more importantly, love. To them she was hope. She was their Princess, their lady.

"Angelus, I am Bailey. I shall be designing your clothing accessories. It is such an honor."

"Angelus, I am Stella. I shall be designing your dress robes. I am honored to serve you."

Each one came up to her and there was sincerity in each one of their voices that she was touched. "Thank you," she said after they all returned to their places. "Thank you very much for being here today."

With introductions out of the way, they moved her to a platform in the middle of the room.

"Now Angelus, we must get your measurements. It would be preferable if you were to stand in your undergarments. We are all professionals and this is our job, but should this be disagreeable to you we will allow Madame Malfoy to take your measurements and then relay that information to us," the one named Stella explained.

She paused and looked at those before her. She knew that they wanted nothing more than to serve, so she complied and began to undress.

Each one of the designers took their measurements to adjust for the fit of their clothing style. She had designers making everything for her, from the typical dress robes, to formal robes, to casual robes, to undergarments and stockings. Each had their function and each began to sketch as she stood in nothing but her underwear and bra on a platform in front of them. After they were done with their sketches and measurements, she dressed and sat down at the head of a group of chairs.

One by one they came to present their ideas to her. She found herself deeply interested in the subjects of each conversation, while at the same time realizing that she had to be fair to all and not show favoritism.

"Angelus, you are still so young and fresh. It is my desire to create for you casual clothing which will present you in both good taste and yet push the limits of what is deemed proper. I realize that my inspiration comes much from the muggle world, but if that does not offend my lady, I wish to design a line for you."

On the papers presented in front of her were robes she had never even dreamed or heard of. None of the robes were full length. They were all colors of blue and while being one pieces, were spaghetti strapped or were cut short to allow for high socks or leggings.

Another designer approached her with her design. "I swear to you Angelus that if you let me design this line for you I will not make these outfits for any other. It is my fondest wish to design for you, Angelus, a line for you inspired by the sigma of your great house."

He presented her with drawings of robes in which her crest was incorporated to make everything from dress robes to casual robes and even night wear and under garments. It was all rather breathtaking and dazzling to her, someone who until now had never bought a designer robe in her life.

The morning passed by in much of this fashion and it was not until the lunch bell that the designers were dismissed to work on their assignments. They left with assurances that the lines would be done in the following month.

Hermione, while excited throughout the whole ordeal, was relived when they left. She was already exhausted with dealing with so many people. The whole time she felt as though she were sitting on pins and needles where one word would greatly offend someone and send her down to a certain, and rather painful, death.

She thought she could finally breathe when she caught Narcassia's eye. She knew then that she would have to do this all day.

"It's difficult, Angelus. All the more difficult because you were not born into wealth, prestige. You are not of this world of children born with silver spoons in their mouths. You have not grown up with everyone watching your every movement, your every breath. Thus, what to us is comfort and ease will be to you a noose. The faster you accommodate to our ways the safer you shall be," Narcassia replied.

Hermione couldn't help but see the truth in that. She was no longer in a world where her actions were her own to judge and dictate her life. She was no longer a part of the crowd. She was now in the spotlight, gone from spectator to the highlight of the show. She had to preform her part perfectly to receive an encore from the crowd.

Thus after a light meal of soup and sandwiches, the two moved into the ballroom.

"This is where we shall hold all our lessons Angelus," Narcassia Malofy explained. "Here we shall learn everything from the standard etiquette to the mind games that we purebloods play. I shall teach you rules and secrets that your mother would have taught you had you been raised in a pureblood family. These you shall learn in less time than a six year old." Their eyes met and the rest was understood. "You have little time for mistakes."

After a small pause, she spoke once more. "Today we shall begin with the etiquette one must hold around women."

"Among women, one must always know her place, otherwise you will be quick to make enemies and there is a slim chance to make friends," Narcassia explained. "As a general rule, those of older years have seniority. Those who have born many sons also move up in rank. The lowest female is one who is unmarried and past marital age."

She paused to look at Hermione.

"You, my Angelus, are an exception. While young and unmarried you weld great power and status. You must tread carefully. You must respect your elders, but make them bow down to your will. You must look down upon those beneath you, but you must not walk on them as to bring their anger against you. You walk a fine line Angelus, and it is you who will determine your place and power within our society. Always know that," Narcassia exclaimed at the finish of her speech. She paused to see if the gravity of her statement had reached its mark. Hermione slowly nodded. It had.

"Let us begin."

* * *

Hermione was exhausted. Actually, she was past exhausted. She thought the first day was hard. The next day was not easier, nor the next, nor the next. Each day she woke up tired, feeling as though she had not gotten enough sleep. It was not a physical exhaustion. No, it was mental exhaustion. She felt like her mind had run a marathon. Each day she was expected to keep track of all the details presented to her. Each day she was expected to perform spectacularly.

She recalled earlier that day during their lesson she had fumbled on her memorization of a poem. She had said "sadness" instead of "loneliness." It was a small error. It did not seem that much different to her if the poem read "sadness is the lone flower which weeps" instead of "loneliness is the sad flower which weeps."

"Angelus. It is 'loneliness is the sad flower which weeps upon the windowsill of greatness.'" Narcassia cut in. "Start once more from the beginning," she demanded.

Hermione made the mistake of letting out a small groan. Narcassia's eyes flashed dangerously. "What is the matter Angelus? Does a poem seem to be a waste of your time?"

Hermione said nothing in both fear and exhaustion: she simply didn't have the strength to argue. Besides, she had no rebuttal. She knew it was not a waste of her time, rather, it was her survival kit in this new world where words were not mere sounds, but weapons of choice.

"You will learn Angelus that words cut just as sharp and deep as knives. There is a saying among the ancient lines. 'Men commit murder with wands. Women kill with the spoken word.' A poem is a woman's weapon. A single line can slice her opponent's argument or build her own. It is your responsibility, Angelus, to memorize the 100 poems in the Book of Values and utilize them to their full extent," Narcassia lectured.

Hermione could only comply and start once again from the beginning.

It wasn't that she thought it was a waste of her time. It was simply too much. Not too much to learn, but too much to change. She felt herself changing all too quickly. Soon, there would be nothing left of Hermione Granger. She will become a shadow of the past, a fleeting memory of what she once was. All too quickly, she was becoming Hermione Angelus, a pureblood woman of significant social standing within the pureblood society. A small part of her wanted to cry.

She wanted to hold onto Hermione Granger and never let it go. She wanted to be who she was, what she had always been. She wanted to be safe. She wanted her life back.

Instead, she was being transformed into someone new, someone she didn't know. She was being transformed into someone of incredible power and rank who wielded that power to make others bend to her will. It was so different from the meek Hermione of the past who would follow the decisions of her friends and support their endeavors with her intellect.

She was stuck in a place in between, with one foot in each world. She was unwilling, scared to embrace one and sad to leave the other. Quite like adolescence when one thought about it.

She didn't know if she'd like who she was going to become. She would lose friends and make enemies. She would have the whole wizarding society in Great Britain out for her head, perhaps even the world.

Another part of her though, realized that this was who she had to become. There was no turning back now. She could not throw away her responsibility. She was Angelus and Angelus she would become.

On top of those thoughts, a small part of her, a very small part, wished Draco was with her.

She had seen very little of the Malfoy heir once she had arrived at the Manor. The only time she caught a glimpse of him was at dinner. She had breakfast and lunch separately with Madame Malfoy. Even at dinner, he sat engaged, talking to his father and paying little attention to her. She might as well been a light fixture for that's how little attention he paid her. Thus, she could only guess at how he was spending his days at the Manor. To her it was all a mystery.

That's why it came as a surprise when there was a knock at her door.

She looked up to find Draco Malofy standing the doorway with it wide open to show he had allowed himself in. He stood with a rather amused look on his face, as though he were unsure of what to make of the scene before him.

"Mother out did herself this time," he exclaimed to no one in particular as he scanned her room. Apparently, he had never seen her quarters. Either that or he had become quite the actor.

"What do you want Malfoy?" she asked her fatigue forgotten. Malfoy supplied the energy she needed in the form of irritation and anger while providing, at the same time, curiosity. She was rather interested as to why he had come. It was unlike him to simply stop by, particularly given the time of day. Hermione had been about to turn in for the night, even getting into bed when Malfoy invited himself in.

"I came to ask if you wanted to go shopping," he explained casually. "Mother is busy tomorrow and she thought it would be a good opportunity to do some last minute Christmas shopping." He paused and gave her a look. "Besides, Merlin knows you need a break Granger. You look half dead right now."

She looked surprised. She had completely forgotten about Christmas. In the past, it would have been an impossible feat. The few weeks before the holidays at Hogwarts were filled with holiday spirit as the Great Hall was decked in festive colors and random sprigs of mistletoe hung from rather convenient places. Everyone was buzzing with excitement and usually she would be too. She would have done her Christmas shopping before going on break to get the magical items for her friends and then later go Christmas shopping for her mother and father. Now, however, the thought of Christmas had never crossed her mind. The excitement which had touched her for the past seventeen years of her life failed to touch her now.

Thus, she sat contemplating the fact that Christmas did not excite her and did not reply to Draco. They sat in silence as Draco assessed their surroundings and realized that talking to Granger would do no good.

"How is it?" he finally asked when he became bored looking at the cream colored wall paper. When she didn't answer he said, "Come on Granger. I'm not going to bite."

She gave him a curious look and he returned the same one in return. Finally, she gave him a reply.

"It's not difficult. Just a lot to absorb," she remarked. While she was far from alone, her company being mostly Narcassia Malfoy, she was in lack of companionship, an equal to talk to. Thus, while Malfoy was not her ideal person to talk to, he was indeed a student of the same grade and age as her and likewise, an equal to talk to.

"I heard you're doing well," he remarked casually as she looked up at him in surprise. He guessed at her thoughts. "Mother is not one to openly praise, but her lack of degrading comments is uplifting."

So much for companionship. She gave him a rather dirty look. "What do you want Malfoy?" she asked once more. "I suggest if you're bored to go pick on someone else. I'm sure they'd be far more interesting," she exclaimed. Determined not to allow him to disturb her peace, she laid back down in her plush bed and pulled the covers up as though she didn't care if he was there or not: she was going to sleep.

Thus, she was surprised when she felt the covers pulled from her body. She gasped and sat up her bed only to glare at Malfoy.

"I'm trying to be nice Granger," he replied coldly, the light tone gone from his voice.

"I don't need nice from you Malfoy," she replied back with the same edge. She was furious that he had disturbed her in her room of all places. It was her only sanctuary in this God forsaken place. "I need sleep."

He glared at her as she once again grabbed for her covers.

He didn't know what to make of this girl in front of him. At times, he wanted nothing more than to kill her with his own bare hands, the rather crude muggle way. He couldn't stand her. She brought anger out of him and made him lose control of his emotions. He couldn't manipulate her like other girls, and because of that he was inexplicably attracted to her.

It was curiosity. He wanted to figure her out. He cared nothing about what she liked or disliked. He cared nothing about her past or her present. He cared nothing about her moods or her feelings, but he cared about how she affected him and why.

He wanted to know why she made him angry like no one had before. He wanted to know why he was so god damn protective of her. He wanted to know why she made his perfectly built mask slip in front of her. He wanted to know what it was about her that made him _care_.

Before Granger women, were split into two categories: his mother and everyone else. His mother cared and coddled him since he could remember. Other mothers were just like his mother and looked out for their young. Everyone else were objects, toys for his amusement.

Take Pansy for example. Since he could remember she had hung on his every word and action. She was there when she was needed and there even when she wasn't needed. She bent to his will along with every other girl in his house. The other girls bent to his will and became clay in his hands. He could make or break their hearts, play with their emotions and use them as he wished. They were objects, toys to be played with and used to his advantage.

Granger was obviously not a toy. She was a girl. She was the Angelus, his ward.

Thus, Draco Malfoy found himself in a predicament. Hermione Granger was the first girl he could not make bend to his will. Instead, he was forced to bend to hers due to their relationship to one another and Draco Malfoy did not like that one bit.

Thus, he gained control of the opposite sex in the only way he knew how: sexually.

Hermione laid, unaware of the happenings within Draco Malfoy's brain, confused. She had expected him to get angry. His lack of anger made her uneasy as she hid under her covers. Finally, she couldn't stand it anymore and surfaced to a sight she wasn't expecting.

Draco Malfoy was towering above her. She let out a little squeak when he placed his hand to the right of her face on the bed next to it. He leaned in and the atmosphere in the room suddenly became very heavy. Hermione found it difficult to breathe. She avoided Malfoy's eyes for fear of what she would find in them.

Her back was currently pinned to the bed. She was all too aware of its firmness as she tried her hardest to get as far away from Malfoy who was leaning over her.

"You think your so smart Granger," Draco remarked with a quiet chuckle."Well, you don't seem too smart right now."

Hermione didn't reply. She didn't know how to reply, both in actions and in words.

All she knew was that she felt uncomfortable as hell.

They stayed like that for what seemed to be ages. Both were unaware of the passage of time, only the ticking of the small charm clock hanging on Hermione's wall told of the passing time. Hermione looked away and Draco looked forward. She tried desperately to stare at something other than the man in front of her. Thus, she ended up counting the lines in the ivory wall paper. It was near impossible.

Finally, she let out a breath when Malfoy moved an inch away, and slowly, that inch became two and then three until finally he was an arm's length way.

"I expect to see you tomorrow at 10'o clock in the parlor. We leave then," Draco explained smoothly. Hermione couldn't help but shiver. She had sat up once he had moved half a room away.

He gave her one last look, a rather smug look, and finally left, allowing Hermione back her sanctuary. She allowed herself to breathe as she unceremoniously flopped onto her back. Breathe, she thought. It took all of her energy to focus on the in and out motion of her lungs. When she finally regained control over her lungs, she pulled the covers up and, with the wave of her wand, turned off the lights.

She forced herself to forget what just happened and to not think about it. She told herself that it was not worth her time. Thus, she thought of something that made sense to tidy up her rather dazed mind. She considered Christmas, or more specifically, her shopping list.

Two names popped into her head: Harry and Ron. In the past, she would always get their presents first. They were always at the top of her list. Now she wondered, if perhaps they were on her list at all. It seemed inappropriate. Her anger towards them had long since left her. To be honest, had the Angelus affair not happened, she would have apologized long ago. Well, perhaps not so easily. Her pride had been wounded due to her childish anger which is what led her to dual them. Perhaps not the smartest move of her life. Now, however, their fight seemed petty compared the the other issues in her life. Besides, they were bound to become enemies. Perhaps it was best to leave things be as Malfoy had suggested.

She set the thought aside as she turned in for the night. Presents could wait until tomorrow.

* * *

Hermione met Draco in the Parlor at 10 o'clock sharp. That morning she had woken up and had a quiet breakfast with Narcassia. They had a brief lesson afterwards on social functions before Narcassia had to go to a morning tea party at the Parkinson's.

"I have attended only the more important affairs as of late," Narcassia explained. "If I do not show my face at this one people will begin to talk. Besides, I'm sure word has gotten out about your staying here. It's a wonder I haven't received more invitations from the gossips."

Narcassia instructed her to wear one of her better dress robes, saying that it would be unsightly to appear in anything less than the best with a Malfoy on her arm. She paused and gave Hermione a rather Malfoy smirk. One she must have inherited from her husband, Hermione thought. Thus, she wore a set of pale, sky blue dress robes cut just above her knees and hung off her shoulder. Along with her robes, she wore a rich white cloak with white fur lining over that and her sky blue muffler as instructed by the designer. This one had apparently been forwarded early as a preview of her upcoming line.

Malfoy arrived five minutes later. He entered the parlor in his travel cloak thick with fur lining. She thought it must be rather heavy, but didn't mention it. She rather thought they looked quite the couple. At least, Lucius thought so. He passed by them on the way to his study. He stopped, gave them one look over, a curt nod, and continued on his way.

Draco finally caught her eye and gave her one look. "Are you ready?"

She nodded. He held out his hand to her and she realized she was to grasp it. After a moment's hesitance she finally did and they apparated.

Diagon Alley was busier than ever. People of all sorts were bustling about to do some last minute Christmas shopping. She saw wizards and witches bundled up, young and old, moving from shop to shop to make their final purchases. Despite the cold, shop doors were flung wide open due to the constant ebb and flow of people in and out of the shops.

Hermione found that they themselves were headed, not to join the crowds of people, but that they were headed for Grigotts, the Wizarding Bank of England.

When they arrived she saw that the place was relatively quieter than the bustling of outside, not due to the lack of people, but rather, the atmosphere. Here, people were doing business, serious affairs, unlike the gay laughter and happiness that accompanied the holiday season and Christmas shopping in particular. Inside, goblins were running around with their customers in tow. She saw the elevators wizzing around and there was a dull roar from the sound of people talking.

"Ah, Master Malfoy," a goblin announced as he approached them. "What my I do for you today?" he asked after taking a minute to bow. He was a rather short goblin, as they all were. Though, he looked more accustomed to human mannerisms due to his tidied up appearance as opposed to the underlings who ran around in whatever clothing it was that goblins wore.

"I would like to request your most private conference room. I have important matters to discuss today," Draco replied in a casual tone, but one would be stupid to miss the seriousness of his tone.

The goblin's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "A private conference you say?" There was a heavy pause full of wheels turning and calculation before the goblin spoke once more. "May I be so bold as to inquire the reason?"

Malfoy looked at him and with a delicate pause said, "I will discuss matters with you once we are in the proper location to do so."

They had bit of a staring contest. It was a battle of authority, power and will. Finally an agreement was reached. "Of course. Of course. Please, follow me." The goblin paused and gave a look at Hermione. "Is the young lady to come with us?"

"Yes. She is to follow," he replied casually looking back at Hermione as though she were an after thought.

Hermione just nodded and followed behind the two who looked to be discussing casual matters such as the weather and the holiday season, the previous atmosphere lost, but by no means forgotten. They had begun their dance of business and affairs.

The further and further they went, the quieter it became. Soon, all she could hear was the trickling of water through pipes and the echos of their footsteps. The goblin named Tuk led them through various corridors which seemed to get narrower and narrower, winding down like a slithering snake. She felt the lighting become dim and it felt to her as though they were going further and further underground to the very belly of the earth itself.

Finally they arrived at a massive door. It was ten times taller than they were and gilded in gold. Perhaps the door itself was gold. Hermione couldn't tell. However, it was extravagant. Each panel, ten in all, had different inlays so that figures were popping out or receding in. She was awed by the depictions in the door and wondered what story they told.

"They are the Doors of History Lady," Tuk explained as though he knew her question. Hermione looked up in surprise at the goblin. "For centuries we have added to it. It is one of our great treasures. Not many outsiders are lucky enough to see it."

She could only imagine with what greed the goblins hid this door from the public eye. It was a treasure indeed.

The massive doors opened to a great hall. Inside she saw a table which spanned from one end of the room to the next. It looked as though it could seat 500 people. Upon the walls were further depictions of what she guessed to be goblin history. It reminded her very much of Michelangelo in the Sistine Chapel in Rome. Perhaps he was a wizard himself, inspired by the depiction of Goblin history. She made a mental note to look up more on him once she was back at the Manor. It did not occur to her that she was beginning to think of it as her home.

As they were led to the head of the table, she noted that there were goblins seated at the other end. No heads were raised at their arrival though and none of their conversation could be heard. She could only assume they were having a meeting of their own private matters.

"Now master Malfoy, what is it that you wish to discuss?" Tuk asked as they sat down. The had danced around the matter long enough. Now it was time to get down to business.

"I wish to inquire about Vault 225," Malfoy explained loudly so that all in the room could hear.

The conversation at the other end of the table came to a halt. They stopped to stare at Malfoy with eyes first of shock, then of suspicion.

Even Tuk hesitated before he spoke, having chosen his words carefully.

"Vault 225 is very special to us, you must understand Master Malfoy. Even we goblins do not speak lightly of it. What is it that you wish to discuss?" the goblin asked again as the others moved closer to listen in.

Malfoy paid them no heed. "I wish to take some funds out of vault 225."

There was a shocked whisper as a crowd began to gather. Hermione looked up to see that the gallery above the table was beginning to fill with goblins. Apparently, word got out fast. She could see their whispers, their looks of shock and scandal.

"Forgive us, but we goblins hold Vault 225 very highly. We will not allow just anyone, even a Malfoy to access the vaults," the goblin explained gravely.

"I understand. That is why I have brought with me the Angelus," Malfoy explained casually.

Once again suprise and shock ran through the crowd. The Angelus? The last Angelus to have arrived was Marcus and that was years ago. It had nearly been two decades. How could this be? They asked one another. Marcus was dead and Lillian had passed away soon after.

The goblin began to understand before anyone else and looked at Hermione for the first time.

"Lady, I never did get your name. May I ask what it is?" he asked politely. The whispered quieted down as they too came to the same realization and looked at her with curious eyes.

She looked at him and was surprised to find warmth in his eyes. He looked at her with kindness and a friendly sort of affection. It was so different from the cold eyes he had previously looked at Malfoy with, those accusing eyes frigid at the thought of losing money and something more.

"Hermione," she replied still rather lost at the significance of her name.

"Ah, Hermione," the goblin repeated. "What of your father's name?"

"Marcus," she replied pronouncing the name for the first time on her own tongue. "Marcus Angelus."

Another round of gasps and whispers.

"May I first give my condolences at your loss," he said. "Your father was dear to us as is your family Angelus. Whereas The Families have the house-elves to do their bidding, your great house has forever been our masters," the goblin explained. He pointed to the far wall. "See for yourself Angelus. Your family has been blessed and honored in our history. The crest of your family is the only human crest to grace the walls of this magnificent chamber."

Indeed, Hermione did look and at the far end of the hall was her family's crest.

"However, one must inquire as to why Master Malfoy is speaking on your behalf," the goblin asked his eyes cold once more.

"I am her guardian as Lillian was before I," Malfoy explained.

The goblin contemplated this information for a moment as though he was asking himself a question. During this moment, his eyes flew around the room, matching glances with those of authority. Finally he spoke. "We would like proof of your loyalty. If you are truly the guardian of our Angelus you will bear her crest."

Draco looked surprised for the first time since their arrival. Hermione looked at him surprised as well. She was not aware that he bore her crest. She knew only of the necklace he kept hidden beneath his robes. The one she happened across that fateful night.

He began to undo the clasp of his outer robes. To her, it felt rather ceremonious. After taking off his outer robe he stood in a white button up-shirt and a pair of black slacks. Slowly, one by one, he undid the buttons of his shirt, starting with the cuffs and moving to the chest. When he removed it he turned to show the crest on his lower back. There, blazed in white, was the Angelus crest.

There were gasps and Hermione couldn't help but gasp as well. She marveled at the crest upon his flesh. He was truly her guardian, bound by flesh and blood to protect her at the cost of his own life.

"Very well, thank you Master Malfoy," the goblin bowed. "We thank you for your service to our Angelus." He then turned to Hermione and spoke. "Angelus, while we do not doubt your sincerity we too must ask that you show us evidence of your blood."

Hermione understood. They wanted to see her crest as well. She too took off her cloak. Then, as modestly as she could, she lifted up her skirt to show the Angelus crest which resided on her thigh.

"Thank you Angelus."

"Our family has kept the Angelus Vault Key safe. I present it to you now as a token," Malfoy replied after he finished redressing. He took out a silver key from a hidden pocket within his robes.

The goblin accepted it and then with two hands held it out to Hermione.

"Angelus, this is rightfully yours. May you be pleased,"

She accepted it with two hands also and together they bowed in respect towards one another.

For the first time Malfoy addressed her. "You now have access to your family's fortune. If you wish to withdraw money from it, now would be the time to do so."

She nodded. "May I see the vault?"

"Of course Angelus," he replied.

Thus, together they rose and made their way to the Angelus vault.

There was no elevator to get there. They went deeper into the earth and Hermione knew this was where the vaults of the ancient families began. She suspected that the Malfoy vault was among these as well.

At the very end of the corridor was a large silver door and upon it was the Angelus crest. The goblin looked at Hermione. "You must place the key within the hole Angelus. Only those with Angelus blood may open it."

She nodded and approached the door. She placed the key and heard a small click as she turned it. The door soon transformed and began to open into a massive pathway.

Inside she gasped. There was not only jewelry and gold, but stacks of tomes and parchment of all kind.

"Your family has long been passionate about learning. They value books as much as they value gold. You will find many priceless tomes within this collection. May you use them well," the goblin explained.

Hermione nodded and took with her a small bag of gallons. She knew it would be more than enough for her purposes today and beyond.

They exited and she extracted the key from the now closed doors.

"We ask that you keep this transaction private. The world does not know of the Angelus' return. We wish to keep it that way. You understand the danger she would be in if it were otherwise." Malfoy explained.

The goblin nodded. "The transactions which take place in the Angelus vaults have always been kept private. Much like you Master Malfoy, we goblins place the Angelus at the highest. While they have their limits on what they may order us to do, we will not harm them. Your secret is safe with us." He turned to address Hermione. "May you be well Angelus."

"Thank you" she replied with a sincere smile. She had just met this little goblin and she was already charmed by his fierce loyalty and determination.

With that they parted ways and once more they were out in the blistering cold of Diagon Alley.

Hermione almost expected Malfoy to take off on his own leaving her to fend for herself. When she saw that he did not, she looked at him rather surprised.

"It would not do to leave the Angelus unguarded," he whispered as he made an intimate move to adjust her muffler. "I will follow you."

She understood. There were ears everywhere. They must keep up appearances that they were an innocent couple doing their last minute holiday shopping. "I know very little of high end shopping. Perhaps you could show me." She made sure to look up coyly at him.

He smirked, amused. "Very well. Allow me to lead the way."

Together, arm in arm, they looked every inch the perfect couple. Draco would whisper things in her ear, and she would giggle quietly as though they were sharing a secret. The image they presented, however, couldn't have been further away from the truth.

"You're enjoying this too much Granger. I know that any woman would die to spend the afternoon Christmas shopping with me, but really, must you hold onto my arm so?" he teased. There was little anger in his voice, just amusement.

"Don't flatter yourself Malfoy," Hermione replied slightly irritated at his provoking her, but not enough to set her off in a bad mood. "It is you who said we should keep up appearances."

She let out a giggle. He couldn't help but roll his eyes as he put his face into her hair.

"You're having too much fun," he replied once again.

"Perhaps you're not having enough," she replied and shot him a glance.

He met hers and saw a challenge.

Together they stood in the ciel bleu square of the high end fashion boutiques. The who's who of the wizarding world shopped there in Britain were they not in Paris, France or off in Italy. Together they stood on that bright winter morning amongst people in rich silks doing their last minute shopping. Next to them was the coeur tranquille water fountain that never froze despite the brisk weather and within the sunlight glinted off the brightly colored scales of the rainbow fish.

Together their eyes met in challenge. Hand in hand they stood facing one another.

"Is that so?" Malfoy asked taking a step towards her.

Hermione was no coward. While she saw the foolishness of her words, she would not back down. "Yes," she whispered quietly to no one in particular.

To each other there was only the person in front of them and the challenge that person presented. Neither knew the image they were creating nor the looks passerbys were giving them along with whispers of "Isn't that Narcassia's boy?"

To them there was only they, us. While they held no love for each other, their egos, their wills and their stubbornness would not permit them to back down from the challenge before them, despite the embarrassment and frustration they would feel later.

They knew what was to come, what was demanded for their egos to be satisfied. They knew what was to come for them to rise up to the challenge.

That's why when they kissed neither protested. It was already demanded.

Malfoy made the first move. He moved closer to her, one arm prepared to wrap tightly around her waist and the other raised to move behind her head.

Hermione moved second, ready to fling her arms around his neck for support. They were putting on a show after all. It would not do to make it undramatic.

They met in the middle. Cold lips upon cold lips. One lick of warmth upon Hermione's cold lower lip opened what was once closed and their tongues intertwined in perfect harmony.

The occasional passerby had to stop and glance at the couple, only to look away with a slight blush upon their cheek not from the cold, for their passion was so evident.

Together they held one another, eyes closed, mouths open, oblivious to the world around them only to know they had triumphed. They had tasted victory. They were not cowards.

It was then, and only then in horror did they realize what they were doing and slowly backed away.

Their mouths closed. Their arms slowly moved away from the other. It took effort, for they were so tightly wound upon one another. Draco's hand had found it's way into Hermione's hair as had Hermione's hand found its way into Draco's hair. They came down from their bliss of triumph to the cold reality.

Hermione Granger, now Hermione Angelus and Draco Malfoy had kissed.

Well, they weren't about to say anything to one another.


	9. Chapter 8

A/N: Hello all~ Sorry for the long wait. I must admit, I had a bit of writer's block when it came to this chapter. The next one as well. I wrote the two chapters, but then decided I didn't like it. So, I had to go back and edit/re-write parts. It has taken longer than I expected to get the right tone, but I finally think I got it. This chapter is a rough chapter. It's almost four in the morning, but I wanted to post this. I will wake up tomorrow morning and edit it again perhaps. I tried to catch all the spelling errors and grammar errors, but since my spell check is not working on Word, it's a bit of a hassle. Nevertheless, I will try to make it perfect. Haha.

Oh, thank you for the reviewer who pointed out that I spelt Narcissa's name wrong! I hadn't realized it until you mentioned it. Thank you!

I hope the next chapter will be up soon. Thank you for all those reading this story and adding it to your favorites list or update lists. My goal is to try and reply to every review for this chapter. I know in the past I have been bad about getting back to reviewers. I hope to establish a better reader-author relationship.

Okay, sorry for the long A/N. Enjoy!

Chapter

Hermione and Draco stayed relatively silent for the rest of the trip. They still kept appearances, such as holding each other's hand, but each said nothing to each other. They had their own thoughts to attend to.

Which is why on occasion, Draco would stroke Hermoine's hand without noticing it and why Hermione would on occasion lean on Draco's shoulder.

Neither one realized it. Only the occasional single witch who would look at them in envy or the elderly couple who remembered their days of youth.

Together they went from store to store, voices monotone and lost in a daze. The shop owners would look at them curiously, but said nothing. They knew the two had the money to make their efforts worth the slight discomfort.

Hermione and Draco would enter together and look at things separately. Hermione looked for Ginny's present, the only one of her past friends for whom she would be getting anything, along with presents for the Malfoy's and, she supposed, Blaise and Professor Snape.

When the day was said and done, Malfoy carried their purchases, and they made their way to the floo. One after another they went and arrived at Malfoy Manor.

A house-elf greeted them and took their cloaks and luggage away to be properly stored and sorted. Without a word, the two of them parted ways.

It was only after Hermione had arrived in her room that she analyzed the day's events.

Hermione Gran—Angelus now had access to the Angelus vaults which were centuries old and filled with not only priceless gems and jewels, but with tomes and books of all kinds. She wondered if the goblins had kept record of which tomes were stored in there. She made a memo in the back of her mind to inquire about that.

She had purchased all the presents she had gone out to shop for. Her list was rather short anyways.

For Ginny, she had purchased a beautiful quartz pendent. It was simple in design, held on a platinum chain, but the shop keeper had insisted it had the most powerful spells upon it. Quartz was used to hold energy and Hermione thought it was rather her style than Ginny's. However, she thought her friend would grow and would come to appreciate its worth. Ginny would probably simply wear it as an accessory. Such a shame, Hermione thought as she made her purchase.

It was out of respect she also sent gifts for Molly and Arthur. She told them she was staying at Hogwarts over the holidays, but she wasn't sure what the boys or Ginny had said. Besides, even while she could not see herself at their home anytime soon, if ever, she felt obligated to send a gift for all the breaks she spent there in the past. She took the time to stop by a high-end bakery to send over holiday pastries and bread.

For her Professor she also brought something practical: _Potions and Brews for the Rather Curious Wizard._ She knew it was a rare tome and thought he might find it interesting, even while it was rather innocent in its contents. The tome was made rather as a joke in the late seventeen hundreds. She knew Professor Snape had the wit to understand the subtle humor of the rather old tome.

For Blaise she bought a Limited Edition Gucci Firebolt II. There were rumored to only be five in existance. Even while he probably an equally flashy broom, as suggested by Malfoy's blatent snort as she announced who she was buying it for, she thought he'd get a kick out of it anyways. It was her way of saying thank you after all for that night.

It was the Malfoy family that troubled her.

After much thought she decided to give Madame and Mister Malfoy something priceless: they were welcome to enjoy the vacation home the Angelus had on the Aegean Sea, which she had discovered only hours before when the goblin Tuk gave her a folder of property owned by the Angelus family. It was located somewhere in the Greek islands on one of the islands thought to be uninhabited by muggles. While she had no doubt that the Malfoys had equally vacation houses, she thought this one provided a unique location away from the typical houses lining the Mediterranean Sea.

Finally, for Draco, she bought a dueling knife.

She knew that traditional wizards carried knives with them in a duel. While that practice was now forbidden due to substantial injury obtained, resulting often in death, the ancient families still held the practice. She knew it would be appropriate for a ward to give her guardian such a tool. She had the blacksmith make the blade a mix of quartz and platinum and diamond, each for their given properties and she had the handle made of the same platinum compound with gems of quartz embedded in the handle and sheath. It was by far the most expensive thing she bought. She cringed inward at the price of the blade, but she knew it would not make a dent in the vast vault of the Angelus.

It was that thought which brought her back to this afternoon: the kiss.

Surprisingly, she was not angry or upset.

She was rather indifferent.

In fact, she rather enjoyed it for the sheer thrill of triumph that she felt over him. Not that she'd want to repeat it any time soon.

She shook her head. Perhaps it was time to retire for the night.

* * *

On the other side of the Manor, Draco Malfoy laid wide awake in bed that night. He couldn't sleep. Every time he closed his eyes, his body felt like it was on fire. Every time he closed his eyes he saw her face, he felt her warm body pressing against him, the pressure of her soft lips.

He couldn't stop thinking about it. His mind betrayed him as he replayed that afternoon. He could feel the brisk chill of the breeze on his bare cheek as the bright winter sun shone on him. It was in such contrast to her warm, inviting body, which invaded him as she stepped forward in challenge. He could not speak. Suddenly, she was everywhere. He could smell the soft lilac scent of her hair and the fragrance of her perfume. Everything about her called to him, but it was her eyes that were his undoing. One look in those eyes showed her challenge, and that was the flame he wanted to douse as he moved in for the kill. He couldn't breathe when their warm-cold lips met. He felt her arms around his neck and her soft body pressed against him as he pulled her towards him.

He sat up, shaking the memory from his mind. He was never going to get to sleep like this. He put on some pants and went out for a walk hoping the cold would do something to cool this fire that raged within him.

As he walked, he knew for certain there was nothing to think about. There was no situation. That afternoon was simply a moment, of the same likeness to a one night stand. There is no beginning and there is no end. For, there can be no beginning or end to something that was never there in the first place.

No, Draco Malfoy knew that whatever fascination he held with Hermione Angelus, formerly Granger, was purely on the level of curiosity. The fact, however, that her flesh called to his complicated that curiosity. That was all.

A small part, a rather small part, wanted to indulge in that complicated curiousity and see what it would be like. He knew his curiosity in her would disappear after he had fulfilled it. Then, she would no longer be Hermione. Instead, she would simply fade away into the crowd of faceless and nameless girls to be used for his will and purposes. It was an outcome which would satisfy him immensely.

However, Draco Malfoy was a man, if not of goodness, then of morals and pride. She was his ward, and he was her guardian. Even without his vows, such a relationship demanded respect. He was to be her protector. To use her so easily for his own satisfaction would go against those bounds.

In the end, his pride and sense of duty won over simple curiosity. It would not do for his desire to get in the way of his duty. He would have to be on his guard around her. After all, curiosity did kill the cat. With that in mind he finally went back to his room to sleep.

* * *

It was on Christmas Eve when all hell broke loose.

Word had gotten out that Hermione Granger, best friend of the very Harry Potter their Dark Lord was to kill, was residing at Malfoy Manor as a guest of Draco Malfoy. Thus, when the invitation for the New Year's Ball, on the thirty first of December, at the Parkinson House arrived, as expected, it contained not only an invitation for the Malfoy family, but an extended invitation to a certain Hermione Granger as well. That bit of the invitation was rather unexpected, to say the least.

Hermione stared at the letter sitting on the rather expensive looking coffee table. The whole family had gathered in the parlor to discuss the matter at hand.

The invitation had arrived not fifteen minutes ago during lessons with Madame Malfoy. Hermione saw the frown on her face and began to worry. While Hermione had not known Madame Malfoy for very long, she knew that Madame Malfoy did not frown without reason. Hermione only had to recall the last time she had seen such a frown grace her face to know this was a very bad sign. That's when she called a halt to her lessons and called Draco and Lucius to the parlor to discuss the matter.

Twenty minutes later they were gathered in the parlor at midday. Narcissa handed over the contents of the letter to Lucius who then passed it on the Draco. Hermione could see the wheels turning in all their heads as they informed Hermione of the situation.

"I do not understand," Hermione exclaimed after contemplating the news on her own. She too, had read the letter."What is the matter if I go?"

There was a grave pause. Finally Narcissa spoke. "Angelus, you must understand. A ball is a function, not a simple party. The fact that you have been invited means that you are to be used as a pawn in a massive game." She massaged her temples. "I should not have neglected so many functions during your stay here. That was my first mistake."

"There is nothing we can do now. We must plan," Lucius explained. His facial expression changed as he asked, "Is the Angelus to be presented or introduced as Draco's play thing?" Hermione couldn't help but flinch. Whether it was at the word play thing or the flat, cold tone in which Mr. Malfoy said it, she did not know.

There was a moment of silence as all those present contemplated the situation.

"It would be best, I believe, to introduce her as the Angelus," Draco finally announced. All heads rose to look at him. "Were she introduced as my simple fling it would put her in the way of too many. They would try to use her because they would assume she would be of no cost to me. They would assume I brought her and played her for that simple matter. I would be unable to act to protect her for fear of people disregarding my standing within our society," he paused. "I already put myself at risk when I brought her here. There were many in our House who were opposed to it."

There was a pause. Hermione had not thought of the risk she was putting Draco in by spending the holidays here. She had not realized Draco felt the same animosity from his house as she did from the school. Perhaps, he felt it just as much. She had never thought of it before.

"You risk too much. You hid her from our Lord. He will punish you for it," Lucius explained. Hermione heard what was unsaid. Lucius was worried. That made her worry, more for Draco's safety than hers.

"It would be a greater punishment to hide her once more only to reveal her later," Draco countered. He stood firm. These was no tone of fear in his voice.

Hermione agreed. While he would receive punishment for having hidden her once, he would receive a worse fate for hiding her twice.

"I believe we should introduce me at the ball," Hermione announced calmly. "From my understanding, Draco will receive punishment anyway. A formal introduction at our choosing, while limited of place and time, could work to our advantage." After a small pause, she added, "I could step forward to try and lessen Draco's harm by claiming he was only protecting me."

She looked at him and he understood. She remembered their promise and she was going to see to it that he was not harmed. She would attend with him when he was called, for it was known that the Dark Lord would show his presence that night.

"Very well. Then we must begin," Narcissa announced. "We have much to prepare."

* * *

That night Narcissa began by having Hermione memorize a list of guests, their names, their surnames and their position within pureblood society along with a few secrets to use as leverage when needed.

Christmas was a time of celebration, but in the Malfoy home there was nothing of that sort. Dinner came and went without fanfare and Hermione continued to memorize list after list. Some she knew from her previous lessons. Others, she knew nothing about.

After going over the list once together, Hermione was to go over it alone later tonight.

Narcissa poured over various scenarios to prepare Hermione for the various encounters she was certain to face. She was to practice each version: before the announcement and after.

For Hermione Granger, she was to be a quiet girl, unoffending. She was to take what was given to her with quiet dignity, so that she may throw it back into their face when it was announced who she truly was.

Hermione Angelus, on the other hand, was to present an air of quiet, but powerful, confidence. She was to be elegant and deadly. She was to be a princess in every way.

Hermione was fine with all of this until Draco Malfoy appeared.

A flash of the kiss popped into her head and it was gone just as quickly as it came.

"Ah, Draco, there you are," Narcissa cooed. She turned to Hermione. "We must practice dancing."

Hermione didn't know whether she should be horrified or pleased. She was an apt dancer, but the thought of dancing with Draco Malfoy scared her in the sense that she didn't know how to act.

He smirked. He wouldn't allow their previous encounter to interfere.

"What do you say Granger? If you're too chicken I'm sure we could have one of the house-elves dance with you," Draco mocked. He knew how to challenge her. "I'm sure they would match your both your rank and height."

As Narcissa exclaimed, "Draco!" Hermione replied, "Oh, who said anything about being scared Malfoy? I simply thought our previous encounter was too much for you to handle."

The smirk on her face infuriated him. She had no right to use something she too was embarrassed about.

He took two strides and reached her. With one movement he got into position. He roughly grabbed her hand and her waist to pull her towards him.

Without a word the music began and the two moved.

Narcissa looked on amused. She watched them glide across the dance floor with such grace that she knew they would be the talk of the ball. No, it was not their dancing which amused her. What amused her was the expressions on their faces. She saw how their eyes flashed at one another as their bodies held each other, both in anger and frustration. She could only wonder what they were talking about.

"What are you looking at Malfoy?" Hermione asked as they stared at one another. Their feet glided effortlessly across the ballroom floor, for they worried not about the dangers of moving in such a dance, but the danger presented in the man or woman in front of them.

"Nothing Granger," he hissed back. He had no intention of allowing her to take advantage of him. He was already frustrated enough as it was with yesterday's incident. He had let his curiosity and weakness get the best of him. He would not allow that to happen again.

Draco Malfoy prided himself on his self control before Hermione Granger came along. At home, he had perfect manners. At dinner parties and seasonal balls, he acted the perfect gentleman, despite the fact that he wanted nothing more than to run for the fastest safe haven, his room in most instances. No matter how difficult the situation or how conflicted he felt inside, he was always able to master his emotions and project the proper, perfect image.

However, he had never met Hermione Granger before that.

Even as a mudblood, she had a certain way of getting under his skin and stabbing him with the appropriate words. He couldn't hold his temper around her, the temper he so admired for holding before.

"I wouldn't say nothing," Hermione replied back. "If that were so, you wouldn't be shooting daggers at me and imagining the 99 ways of presenting Angelus meat."

Draco shot her a glare in reply.

Together they danced in tense silence as their bodies moved perfectly to the music. They said nothing as their bodies moved effortlessly across the dance floor. The more they danced, the more Hermione felt like she couldn't breathe. The air was so tense. She wanted to yell at him, hit him, anything to get rid of the suffocating atmosphere their silence was creating. Finally, she had had enough.

"It was a kiss Malfoy. Get over it."

He came to an abrupt stop, so abrupt that Hermione nearly fell over after crashing into him. She dared to look up only to see two icy globes staring down at her, furious. The arm which caught her pushed her back up so that she nearly fell in the opposite direction.

After tense silence, he spoke three words, "Fuck you Granger."

It didn't take him long after to storm off, anger radiating off of him.

Still, he left only after he paused to turn around mid stomp and throw a small box onto the ground. After Malfoy was long gone and a moment of hesitance, Hermione bent to pick it up. She examined the small box. It was simply wrapped in gold paper with a matching bow. Curious she began to undo the the bow. She tugged on one end and it slowly came undone. As though it were dangerous, she carefully undid the wrapping paper, all too aware of Madame Malfoy's watchful eye. What awaited her caused her the gasp.

Inside the box was a ring. She knew immediately that it was set in pure platinum and that the small diamond that sat there was the most brilliant one she had ever seen. It had a clarity she had never seen before, so much so that the diamond itself seemed to be alive in the light, as though it held its own fire. It was simple in design; yet, she felt the power and the significance behind such a gift. It was his gift of protection and trust to her. Rings were not easily given or exchanged in the wizarding world. Rings were symbols of loyalty, trust and protection. Thus, they were exchanged not only in alliances, but in marriages, for a marriage was one family's pledge to another.

She felt horrible as she sat there in numb silence on the floor. Somewhere in her shock, she had fallen down.

"It would be best to realize the significance of such a gift and find one fitting in return," Narcissa announced startling Hermione out of her shock.

She looked at Narcissa who now stood next to her. "I have," Hermione finally replied. "I bought him a dueling knife today. It seemed appropriate." She paused to look at the door from which Draco had exited. "I suppose I should follow him."

"Give him some time," Narcissa replied. Hermione looked at her rather surprised. "You may seek him out later tonight. I know my son well enough to know that it will do no good to search for him now."

Hermione hesitated for a moment, split between her desire to seek Draco out to receive the gratification of selfish forgiveness and her respect for his own space. Finally, she saw reason and turned back to Narcissa to continue her lessons in the art of high society, sans dancing.

* * *

He didn't hide in his room. No, far from it. He went to the balcony to watch her. He couldn't say what compelled him to do so, but he felt frustrated partially at her, yes, but a vast majority of his anger was focused at himself. He couldn't understand why he recently let his emotions get the best of him.

Thus, he waited to see her open his gift.

He bought gifts for his mother and father easily enough, but for Granger, that was a different story. She was his ward, his Angelus. He was not sure what to get her, this girl who was both his and just that, a girl. He couldn't imagine her wanting frivolous things, new dresses or the latest in witch cosmetics, like Pansy did. No, he knew Granger. She would want something practical, and better yet, something that would appeal to her hidden feminine nature.

Thus, he chose a ring. While to muggles, a man giving a woman a ring meant something of a personal nature, in the wizarding world it meant something more of an alliance. It was a promise not of personal love, but rather, of personal loyalty. It was a symbol of trust, and as an extension, fidelity and protection. It was common for rings to be exchanged between ward and guardian, mother and daughter, father and son, man an wife, between heads of families. Put in muggle terms, rings could be seen as contracts between various parties. It was the final seal.

He couldn't help but smirk at her reaction. While he could not hear their words, he could see her face and her body language. He had made Granger speechless while extracting his revenge by making her feel like shit. Perfect. At least she liked it.

He stood there for a while, against the wall and in the shadows, watching her take lessons as he had since their arrival at the manor. He found himself there more often than not. If his mother knew, she made no mention of it.

Truth be told, there was little time that Granger spent alone. He saw to it that he was present for most of her lessons and during meals he had with her, he made sure to pay attention to her even while he was speaking with his father. She was like the sun. He was constantly aware of her position and place in the room, but it did not bother him. She was like the scenery. While he may not acknowledge the tree shaking in the wind next to him, he is aware of its presence and its actions so that if it suddenly stilled, he would know.

He didn't like it. He didn't like how she had suddenly wormed her way into his life. He didn't like how he was protective of her, as though he were attached. He didn't like the thought that Hermione Granger, the Angelus, was not just a part of the female species, but a girl who had thoughts and feelings. Who could look him in the eye and challenge him.

No, he did not like it one bit.

Thus, he first came to her lessons to watch her, to understand her as a researcher would observe an animal to understand its habits, its thoughts and actions. He wanted to figure out who his Angelus was.

Truth be told, she had intrigued him that night by the lake. He could say that his perspective of her changed that night. Before that night she was a face in the crowd. She was, as he understood women, a tool: something to bend and use as he saw fit and needed.

After that night, he saw her differently. No longer was she that dirty filth. She had a face and a name: Hermione. Hermione. To him that name was a death sentence, something he was assigned to fill out, something he was tied to for the rest of his life, like murder or adultery. Hermione. To him that name signified chains, for that's what the Angelus was. Forever bound by blood and oath to protect her, he felt robbed in the very least, if not of his freedom, than of his free will.

And because of that he hated her. He wanted to toss her away, but he couldn't. Not only due to his oath, but because that night he saw something beautiful in Granger.

That night was like a crack in a glass vase: small at first, it slowly spreads until suddenly everything is broken and fallen to pieces. Perhaps another crack had formed that winter afternoon. It didn't matter. He prayed to God that this vase didn't crack anytime soon.

He didn't know what would happen nights from now. When he read the invitation, he had imagined every scenario from bad to worst.

He couldn't imagine them pulling it off. Hermione was a fast learner, but she was not that fast. One wrong move on her part would make their lives hell. She would set the bar that night and either prove her worth or she would be brought to death, not in actions, but in words and the movements of the ancient lines.

The Angelus had been both a blessing and the bane of many ancient lines. The Angelus had held their spot at the top of the Ancient Lines for far too long in some opinion. The noble families saw a dying line, and in that, an opportunity to raise to the top. They would spare her no mercy.

He could only pray that by some miracle they would survive the onslaught.

* * *

Hermione had been rather hesitant to open the door. More than that, she had been rather hesitant to come here at all.

After her lessons, she found herself, not in her room, but rather, in front of Draco Malfoy's door. She stood rather awkwardly with a delicately wrapped box in one hand and the other poised, ready to knock.

She paused, hand half raised. This was her last chance to back out. She was rather tempted to take it. Merlin knew what Malfoy would be like if he was still upset.

However, she thought of the guilt she felt earlier when she opened the box after rubbing salt on his wound. She had to make amends. While Hermione Angelus may not be considerate of others, Hermione Granger still had a moral conscious that needed to be satisfied.

Finally, mustering up her courage, she knocked firmly on the door.

She heard movement on the other side and after a few moments, the door opened.

Malfoy stuck his head out and looked around till his eyes landed on her. She felt his anger towards her. It burned.

"What do you want?" he asked.

She held out the box, unable to look him in the eye. The floor looked very appealing at the moment.

"It's your Christmas present," she explained when he looked at her critically.

His anger, it seemed, was pacified when she mentioned the gift. It was as though she had bought a burnt offering to appease an angry god. In this case, that angry god was Draco Malfoy. He regarded the gift for the first time. Draco hadn't noticed it when he had first looked at her. He now shifted his gaze to it. Hesitantly, he took it from her hands, holding the gift as though it would bite at him anytime.

After the rather strange exchange, he held the gift and paused to look at her.

"You might as well come in," he remarked after a moment of consideration and opened the door wider for her entry.

She entered meekly unsure of what she would encounter.

Draco's room was dim. His color palate, it seemed, was that of rich earth tone browns and dark gold. It had a rather masculine feeling to it, so different from her own. Whereas her was all light and sunshine, with bright lights and sparkling gems, Draco's room was rich seduction of dark chocolate and candlelight. There was nothing gloomy about it. Rather, there was a feeling of power.

"When you're done checking out my room you can take a seat," Draco remarked casually as he sat down in a chair by his fire place. Hermione blushed. She hadn't realized she was looking so carefully at his room.

She quickly went to sit in the vacant chair next to him.

He gave her a look. After a pause, he inquired, "Well, do you want me to open this now or when you're gone?"

"It's your choice," she replied. She was unsure of how to reply. She was rather embarrassed to give him a gift and have him open it in front of her, but a part of her wanted to see his reaction. Another part of her hoped that he would appreciate the gift as much as she had his.

They sat in silence for quite some time. The minutes ticked by and all Hermione could do was sit and watch the flames dance within the fire place.

After some minutes had passed, she heard the movement of ribbon and paper. She glanced up to see that he had opened her gift.

He knew what it was the moment he held it. He could feel the power of the blade hum in his hands. He had been in shock when he invited her in and even when they sat down. It took those long minutes of silence for the shock to die off and for him to finally open his gift. One, Draco thought he was rather unworthy of.

He opened the box to look at the dueling blade she had gotten him. It was beautiful. He could feel the quartz hum under his fingers. It knew him as its owner. Such a powerful, deadly gift. He questioned her sense of logic. She should have been more careful about who she gave such a deadly gift to. It could not be that she trusted him already.

He sat there in silence once more, contemplating that last thought.

Hermione gazed at him as he stared at the blade. She could not make out the feelings, the expressions she saw on his face. Thus, she sat in silence.

The minutes ticked by. Only the occasional shuffle of feet or the dancing flames told the passage of time. They did not move. They did not speak. They sat in deafening silence.

"I don't know what will happen a week from now," Draco began, snapping Hermione out of her daze and catching her by surprise. She turned to him with wide eyes. They met. He continued. "I don't know what will happen, but know that I will do everything in my power to protect you."

She stared at him touched at his sudden show of loyalty and weary at the same time. She would be lying if she said she wasn't surprised by his words. She was. Which is what made her cautious.

She replied simply with and heart felt, "Thank you."

He nodded firmly. She understood his words and the meaning behind them. It was now time for her to leave.

Without another word she stood up and made her way to the door. Draco didn't move to follow her. He stayed grounded in his spot.

She paused only at the door, once again hand hovering above the door knob. She glanced back to where they had sat. Draco sat there intently watching the flames, as though they held the answer to what was on his mind. She looked at the clock above the fireplace. It was past midnight. Christmas. Gathering what little courage she had left she spoke.

"Merry Christmas Draco."

At the sound of her voice, he looked up. He looked lost for words, when suddenly, he sent her a look. With that look, Hermione's heart started for the first time in their acquaintance and it was that look which prompted her to run out the door.

* * *

Thank you~

I found it amusing that the Christmas chapter has been posted in August. Perhaps you did too~

Please leave a review!


	10. Chapter 9

Hello everyone. Happy Holidays!

I had hoped to get this chapter out for Christmas, but real life happened and I was unable to do so.

However, I was able to keep my promise to have a new chapter out by the end of the month!

I'm so happy! Just in time for the New Year!

Thank you for all of those reading so far. I am horrible with replying to reviews, I've decided. I reply to the first few, but then lose track of where I left off because I have no record. If there is a record on fanfiction that I could use, please let me know! I will try really hard to write though!

I need to clarify something too. It has come to my attention that this fanfiction is A/U.

(Then again, once Hermione became a pureblood it became AU, haha)

I realized this because up until HBP it is canon. However, I began writing this before DH, so I realize that I should pretend DH never existed. It makes the most sense because I want to come up with an original way to kill the Dark Lord. I'm still working on it. I'll let you know how much of HBP I include as well.

Someone also mentioned that the Notts and Parkinsons are purebloods too. I am aware of this, however, think of the Ancient Families as an "Elite" group within the Purebloods, kind of like royalty.

P.S. I still imagine Blaise as the sexy Italian blond God everyone speculated him to be. However, imagine him as will.

Sorry for the long message! There were many things I needed to explain.

This chapter is the longest one yet, and I worked very hard on it!

Thank you for all the reviews!  
I never imagined this fiction would ever see anything over 100!

This is for you guys! Happy New Year!

* * *

Chapter

Christmas morning found Hermione sitting rather blankly in her room. She sat in front of her fireplace on one of the matching high back chairs. There was a small Christmas tree next to the hearth decorated with twinkling lights and glass balls of white crystal. It had been there for the last week. She had returned to her chambers one day, only to find it adorning one corner of her modest sitting room. Today, however, unlike other days, presents awaited her underneath.

She sat in one of the high backed chairs with a cup of warm hot chocolate that the house elf, Daisy, had brought. While she normally had tea or even coffee in the morning, this morning called for hot chocolate. It reminded her of memories she would describe as warm, if one could label memories with such an adjective. It conjured up images of past Christmas mornings spent as a child. She would wake up to find a cup of hot chocolate awaiting her on the coffee table in the living room. As she awaited the arrival of her father, her mother already being awake, she would sip it before the opening of presents began, wondering what were inside. This morning though did not hold the same feeling of excitement. She sipped on the hot chocolate in apprehension as she stared at the presents under the tree. She could not bring herself to open them. She didn't know where to begin. So she simply sat, and waited, and hoped that they would somehow magically open on their own by the time she finished drinking her chocolate.

It took her an hour and twenty four minutes before she finally sat down to open the first box. She looked at the name: Mum.

She had told her parents that she would be staying at school for the holidays. It was easy enough to convince them that she wanted to study for her NEWTS. They wanted what was best for their daughter, and while they expressed their regret at being unable to spend the holidays together, they respected her decision.

Hermione had bought her parents' presents that day they went to Diagon Alley. Even while there was increasing evidence that she would soon part from them, she could not bring herself to act a complete stranger. They had raised her. They may have very well brought her into this world. It was her father, Nathaniel Granger who taught her to first ride a bike, and it was her mother, Margret Granger who bought her her first novel. They taught her the values she held today and made her into a moral, upstanding citizen of muggle society.

It was such a large part of her life. They had been a part of her life, were a part of her life, a large part. She couldn't just throw that away. Still, she did not know how they fit in her present life.

For her mother, she had bought an innocent looking novel of fairy tales. A muggle born wizard had taken the time to explain the wizarding origins of many muggle fairy tales. It had surprised Hermione that many of the fairy tales she had read as a child were indeed actually historical fact in the wizarding world. For her father, she had bought various sweets from the Diagon Alley division of Honeydukes Sweetshop. Even while her father was a dentist, he had a wicked sweet tooth. She knew her mother would disapprove, but her father would get a kick out of wizarding sweets.

She once again regarded the object in front of her. The box sat innocently enough, but it stared back at her like a neon sign. Slowly, she picked it up and began to open it. She delicately handled the muggle tape which held the paper together, in contrast to the other boxes which had minor sticking charms on them. With the wave of her wand, she could have unwrapped her mother's present, but muggle tape called for muggle methods. It was a rather small box and did not take long to open. When she opened the small box, she gasped. Inside was a necklace. It was a small tear drop pendent of dark blue sapphire on a simple tarnished silver chain. She knew, even before she opened the note the meaning behind such a gift.

_Hermione,_

_Merry Christmas love. I hope you manage to enjoy your holidays even while you are busy studying for your NEWTS. This necklace was your grandmother's. She gave it to me, and now I am giving it to you. I know you will keep it safe. Your father and I send our love._

_Mum_

She found tears in her eyes. She had never expected this. It was such a sharp reminder of her past. These last few weeks she had begun to believe she was a pureblood, had always been a pureblood. She began to believe she was not of the muggle world. No, her muggle past felt like a lie and the world she sat in now was the truth. She realized now, that she was wrong. While it was true that she was no longer of that world, it did not mean that it was no longer a part of her. She realized that her muggle life was just as much a part of her as her new life now. It defined who she was, something she should never forget. While she was till unsure of the details, she knew it was her muggle heritage that made her different from all the other purebloods.

Most of all, it was her muggle heritage which made her realize that her new position in life should be used to do as she would have done before: to protect her loved ones. Her power games would be played, not for ambition, but for love.

It was due to both gratefulness and sadness that tears rolled down her cheeks.

That's how Draco found her, sitting in her room, crying. His mother was worried when Hermione did not show up for breakfast that morning. When she ran into Draco, she thought it appropriate that he check up on her. He tried to push it off, telling his mother that if she was so curious, she should check up on the girl. His mother simply replied, "She's your ward." Well, there was nothing he could say to that.

He knocked on her door, once, twice. When there was no response, he paused for a moment before opening it. He looked around and saw her sitting by the fire. A small box sat in her lap and she was obviously crying.

Something about that broken look on her face spoke to him. It moved him and he found himself by her side, hand outstretched, as though to reach her. Still, he hesitated, sense finally reaching him. His pride would not allow him to reach out to her. It would show his vulnerability to her tears. So he stood still, unable to move away or towards her. It was only after moments of silence, his presence still unrecognized, that he moved away and sat in the chair next to her. It was his movement which finally alerted Hermione of his presence. She looked over at him startled. Immediately, she took her hands from her lap to wipe her tears and compose herself. "Why are you here?" she asked as she continued to dab at her eyes.

"Mother was worried," he replied in a voice which did not betray his inner concern.

There was a quiet silence. Neither spoke a word. The only sounds were from the crackling of the fire.

"It's from my mother," she finally announced. "My muggle mother."

He said nothing, but lifted his gaze to meet hers. Perhaps she could see his concern. He tried his best to look indifferent. Maybe he was succeeding. No matter. She continued. "It's a necklace. She said it was my grandmother's."

There was nothing he could say to her, nor did she expect him to say anything. He would never understand the feeling of discovering your whole life was some sort of lie. Perhaps lie is too strong of a word. Dream, Hermione's life until now had been a dream, and now she finally awoke to a bleak reality.

"What are you going to do with it?" He asked. It seemed the only question appropriate at the moment. He supposed he already knew the answer.

"Keep it, I suppose." Hermione replied. "Even if they are of my past, my past is what makes me who I am now. I can not forget that. To them, I will be forever grateful."

She finally looked up at him and gave him a weak smile. He met her gaze and turned away, unable to face both the sadness and bittersweet happiness in her eyes.

"Perhaps you should open the other gifts," he said as he began to examine the floor beneath the tree.

She nodded, mostly to herself, and got up to sit in front of the tree. Draco remained in his seat, grateful for the distance between them, even if she was but a few steps away.

Hermione picked up the next box: Dad. She did not hesitate this time as she opened it. It contained a book on the basics of chemistry and biology. The note attached mentioned his belief that she might still be interested in the muggle high school curriculum and, as a joke, that magic was not the answer for everything. She smiled despite herself. Her father, well, her muggle father was so thoughtful.

She grabbed the next one and looked at it in surprise.

"Professor Snape?" she exclaimed, turning her head to look at Draco.

Draco looked at her without catching her gaze. "Of course. It is only appropriate. He knows who you are. He must pay his respects. I imagine next year this time you will have many more extravagant gifts than this."

Hermione understood. This would be, perhaps, her last innocent Christmas. In the future, Christmas would be a game where families would try to gain favor through their gifts and her reception of them would make bold statements. After a little hesitation, she took her wand and muttered a spell to unwrap the present.

The rest of the morning was conducted in such a manner. She had received various gifts from various people. More notably, from Professor Snape, she had received an old tome on the historic origins of modern potions. The note attached suggested it had been his own. From Blaise she received the most outlandish sets of matching undergarments with a rather gorgeous gown. She had opened them in shock and then laughter at the look on Draco's face. The note mentioned his hope for Draco's presence when she opened her gift and the desire to witness the priceless look which was surely gracing his face.

From the Malfoy household, she had received, much to her surprise, an owl. While she had been opening her presents in Draco's presence, the cage, owl, and a note magically appeared in her bedroom. The note had read,

_Angelus,_

_It had come to our knowledge that you were not in ownership of your own owl. While this gift is humble, I hope nonetheless you are pleased with it. It is a pure __Asio otus__, long-eared owl. It comes from a respectable genealogy of ancestors who were personal deliverers for Merlin and Salthezar Slytherin. We hope you are pleased with your gift. Merry Christmas._

_The Malfoys_

She found herself very pleased with the gift. The owl was adorable and quickly grew on her. Draco too seemed rather surprised as he took time to inspect the owl. A bloody finger later, he cursed the bird and Hermione set it straight.

"He is my ward," she said seriously to the owl. "You are to respect him as you would me."

Perhaps it seemed ridiculous to speak to an owl as such, but she supposed that if he were of such linage, he was not without intelligence. The bird seemed to understand as he gave a small hoot and looked as ashamed as an owl could look ashamed.

"So what you going to name the bloody bird?" Draco scowled as he quickly healed his injured finger. He looked at the owl scandalized.

Hermione looked contemplative.

"I think I'll name him Ophanim" she finally announced.

He shrugged casually to her as he continued to glare at the bird. "It's your bird."

It was of note that she had not received anything from Harry or Ron. Then again, she had not expected to. She hadn't gotten them anything either, not out of spite, but rather, she was unsure of how to approach the topic of Harry and Ron.

A part of her deeply wanted to mend the growing rift between them. They were her friends, but circumstance had changed. She had changed, and she was unsure what would happen after the truth came out. So, due to fear of rejection, she stood still, unable to approach them in fear of rejection, but in pain because she longed for their friendship.

Perhaps it was herself that was furthering this divide by standing still, unable to move one way or the other. In part, she knew this to be true, but when she was crossing such a fine line between risk and safety, she found she could not take that great leap into further uncertainty.

She told herself it didn't matter, and that she had more immediate concerns, such as the upcoming ball. However, a small part of her would still not agree.

* * *

She had spent the entire afternoon with Narcissa Malfoy. The had gone over the basics of social etiquette. Over and over again she was drilled on the social hierarchy of the pureblood linage and the positions of each of the guests at the ball. She was drilled on the history of their family five generations back and the current standings of each family and each member.

In addition, she was taught the art of spoken word, verbal and non-verbal, in continuation of her previous studies. One could say she was pushed onto an accelerated course.

It drained her, but she felt no fatigue. Bluntly put, this was war and the ball was the upcoming battle. Thus, it was either kill or be killed.

Once again, bluntly put, she would rather make it out alive.

Therefore, she choose to kill.

It was the night before the ball, and Hermione found she couldn't sleep. She was nervous. Nothing had prepared her for the terror she faced at the prospect of failure. Never again would she lose sleep over final exams. That was kid's play compared to this.

Thus, she found herself wondering the halls at four in the morning. She had gotten a few hours of fitful sleep before she decided to get out of bed and walk off her nerves.

The corridors were dark and eerily quiet. Had she not lived there for the past two weeks and walked these corridors during the day, she would have been adequately frightened. However, this was home now and she felt no fear. Instead, she felt a sort of calm as she walked the dark hallways of the Manor.

She took slow, steady steps. With each step, she felt her anxiety leave her, little by little, one by one, until finally, she was able to breathe.

She would be okay tomorrow. She would get everyone out alive.

She would face their society, and she would triumph.

With this thought in mind she turned the corner and found herself face to face with Draco Malfoy.

She lost the words to speak. She felt like both an intruder and the one intruded on. Both of them were wandering the corridors in search for peace in this restless night. To have found each other like this felt taboo.

So they stood in the corner of the corridor, face to face for several moments without a word. Hermione felt no rush to speak. While she felt that she had intruded on a private moment, to speak would be to break the magic which captivated both of them. Any words she thought of sounded crude, rough.

Instead, they stared at one another, blinking slowly, one blink after the other. It was Hermione who finally made the first move. She found herself taking one small step after the next towards him. Perhaps it took only seconds, but to her it felt like minutes, hours. One step after the next she walked towards him until she found herself face to face with him. He was but a mere arm length away. She needed only to reach out and touch him to break this silence.

So she did just that: she took his hand in hers and began to walk.

Hermione knew nothing of how Draco felt, but she knew that to speak would break this moment. Thus, instead of parting ways and walking alone, wondering about the other's silent journey, she chose to walk together.

They spoke no words that night. Instead, they walked the vast corridors of the mansion together in silence. There were no thoughts, no feelings, only the act of walking, the act of walking together. Together. She with each step, she began to understand that she was not alone in her fears for the uncertain. It gave her comfort.

It was not until the sun began to rise that Hermione found herself in front of her room. Draco had stopped at her door. She was not aware of when he had taken the lead, with her following instead of him.

She stopped as well and looked up at him. She could not read the emotion in his eyes and she knew she would never understand even if she could read them. Instead, she gave his hand a small squeeze and, after a pause, she let go to open her door and leave him.

She closed the door quietly behind her without a glance back. She thought nothing about what happened, the implications or meanings. To do so would rob her of the magic of that moment. Thus, without a thought, she made her way to her bed and found herself the recipient of a pleasant sleep full of hopeful dreams.

* * *

He had never expected to run into Hermione.

He had been restless and unable to sleep. The sun had set hours ago and the pale moon shone bright in the night sky. After aimlessly lying in bed for hours, he got up and began to pace. First, he began in his room. After an hour or so of this, his room was found to be too small. As a result, he slowly progressed to the corridors of the mansion.

He was unsure of how long he had wandered before he ran into Hermione. There was no point in his walking. He walked the corridors without a thought. He had no place in mind to sort out thoughts and no thoughts to sort out. He walked for the purpose of walking, the physical movement which accompanied it. Thus, when he found Hermione suddenly in front of him, he was unsure of what to do.

They gazed at each other for the longest time, each unwilling to move. This was half out of uncertainty of the correct course of action and half out of an unwillingness to break the silence which seemed to blanket the night. So, he found himself standing in front of her, unable to continue on his way, unable to approach her.

Thus, when she slowly made her way towards him, he thought nothing of it. Even as she stood a mere hand-width away, he thought nothing of it. When she held his hand, however, he thought everything of it.

The moment she held his hand in hers and led him down the corridor, he was flooded with all the emotion he had hidden away from himself. Her hand had released the dam of his fears, his worries and he found himself now walking to make sense of these thoughts, the very thoughts which Hermione had come to terms with.

He followed her as he began to face his fears one by one, step by step, and he found comfort in the fact that she was by his side. It was she that grounded him as he let go of his worries one by one. Then, suddenly, he found himself, not following her, but her following him. Perhaps she was aware of this, perhaps she was not, it did not matter.

Together, they walked the corridors of the Manor. Each corridor led them one step closer to peace. Each step released a little of their worry, each step, together. They were together, and that fact gave Draco strength. He was not the only one scared to fail. Here was someone who had so much more to lose than him, and here she was, calm, reserved.

He looked at her as he finally came to a stop in front of her door. She stood there, unaware that they had stopped. Still, he held her hand in his. Her eyes were bright as they sparkled in the darkness, her form, soft. He felt like that day by the lake. Something about her, for that unknown moment, the moment she was ignorant to his presence, she was beautiful.

He gazed at her for one more moment to remember her image, and with firm resolve, he released her hand.

She looked at him then and caught his gaze for the first time since they met in the hall. Her eyes were bright with peace and calm. There was happiness within them, and Draco could not bring himself to look away. It was too bright, beautiful.

She knew, perhaps, his thoughts, because she did nothing to decipher what she saw. Instead, she smiled and turned away to enter her room. The click of the door closing was so soft, and yet, deafening to Draco's ears. He wanted to call out to her.

Instead, he turned away and went to his room, and like Hermione, he chose to think nothing of tonight's events. Instead, like that day by the lake, he chose to have his heart remember as he entered the land of dreams.

* * *

Hermione sat in front of her vanity. She could not help but look at herself in the mirror. The face, the person staring back at herself looked like that of a stranger, not merely in the sense of shell, but core as well. The eyes before her were those of someone forced to grow up and accept what she could with the best grace possible, but there was also uncertainty in those eyes. Perhaps it stemmed from uncertainty of self, the future, or both.

Narcissa had left earlier to prepare herself, leaving Hermione alone to contemplate the coming night.

Each preparation of her body was in preparation of tonight. The long bath she had endured, the equally long session with the hair stylist, all were to prepare her for tonight. In a sense, it was her putting on her armor and preparing for battle, for that was what the ball this evening would surely be.

Take for example, her dress.

When word got out of the ball, all the designers sent their finished dress robes with notes that they would forward the rest of the clothes upon their completion. That is how Hermione and Narcissa came upon the problem of finding not a robe, but the correct robe.

"You must appear in a robe which reflects the power and magnificence that comes with the Angelus name, yet, as it is your first appearance, you must look humbled as to not look arrogant to the crowd," Narcissa explained as her eyes critically scanned the robes presented in front of her. They were all in Angelus white and blues, with the exception of a few. Each were unique in their style with both muggle and wizard influence.

Finally a dress robe of dark blue silk was chosen. It was of a modest v-cut and floor length which hugged her curves without being indecent. It was classic and tasteful. Most importantly, it was empowering.

That is how Hermione found herself sitting in front of her vanity, in contemplation, waiting to be called by Narcissa.

As a result, it came as a surprise when not Narcissa, but Draco appeared in the doorway behind her. She looked up from her vanity mirror and turned around to face him. He stood in his dress robes which looked like a sharp muggle suit of black, with an impeccably tailored dress coat. He held in his hand a large, flat black velvet box.

"Mother wanted me to bring the jewels. She said it would not be appropriate for her to present them to you." At Hermione's quizzical look, he continued. "Traditionally, males adorn their women with jewels. Even the head of the house, however busy, will take time to prepare his wife, for jewels are but symbols of power and status." He gave her a weak grin. "Tonight, we will show them the power of the Angelus."

Hermione nodded and gave a small smile in return. Her gaze shifted focus from Draco to the his hands. She gazed intently at the box, waiting for it to open. When it did, Hermione gasped.

Of course she expected it to be extravagant, but this seemed too much. She would blind everyone in the room with the brightness of the gems she was wearing. In the box was a diamond pendant which hung from a platinum chain. The diamond was about the size of her thumb and would rest not far above her belly. Accompanying it were diamond pendant earrings of the same platinum color and a heavy charm bracelet of platinum, diamond and sapphire.

"Now Granger, if you would stop gaping, I could put this on you," Draco dryly, but with humor and amusement along with exasperation at her awe. Honestly, at her reaction no one would believe she was the Angelus.

Hermione shot him a dirty look before she turned around and pulled her hair out of the way. She had removed her pendent-crest earlier. Narcissa had told her she would have no need for it tonight. The new necklace was heavy on her, but it gave her comfort. Its weight fortified her strength and focus on the battle ahead.

Surprisingly, Draco continued to adorn her by inserting the earrings with a delicate grace she hadn't known existed in the Slytherin. He made sure not to catch her hair and that they were firmly in place with a charm before moving on. He finished by clasping the bracelet on her left wrist.

He stepped back and paused, as if to examine his work. She gazed at him through the mirror, her back toward him.

Their eyes met and words were exchanged through them. There was no need for spoken words. All of them had been spoken that night a week ago and spoken wordlessly that very morning before sunrise. They would both do their duty and come out of this night alive and triumphant.

Their stubborn selves would accept nothing else.

* * *

Once Draco closed the door he leaned against the wall just outside.

He couldn't breathe. When he walked into the room, the image Hermione had presented was in one word: breathtaking. She sat, as the Angelus should, in all her glory. Her status and position were presented in physical manifestation. On any other woman, the dress would have made her, but with Hermione, she made the dress.

His heart beat like a dull recollection of that time by the lake, that time before sunrise this morning. She was beautiful. He lifted his gaze from her form to the mirror. Their eyes met and no longer was she simple beauty: she was power.

No one at school would believe the girl, no, woman in front of him was Hermione Granger. Gone was the shy school girl who preferred the company of books over boys. In front of him sat a woman who knew what she wanted. However, when he saw her eyes, he could see the uncertainty which came with new-found power.

He found himself returning to the present as he read the increasing confusion and question in her eyes.

"Mother wanted me to bring you your jewels," Draco answered firmly. "She said it would not be appropriate for her to present them to you." He continued as the confusion did not go away. "Traditionally, males adorn their women with jewels. Even the head of the house, however busy, will take time to prepare his wife, for jewels are but symbols of power and status. Tonight, we will show them the power of the Angelus, for jewels are but symbols of power and status." It was here, he gave her a weak grin to hide how he felt on the inside. "Tonight, we will show them the power of the Angelus."

There was no need to tell her the behind story.

He had outright refused when his mother had called for him earlier.

"It's inappropriate," he flatly replied.

It was true. Adorning jewels had always been an intimate function within any household. It had led to legendary arguments and scandals in the past, some whispered about even today. It was as important as the selection of jewels themselves.

"It is appropriate," his mother had replied. She paused in the middle of applying her lipstick. "Hermione has no kin. Thus, there are no blood relatives to care for her and present her to society. It is our duty to do so. Your father can not attend to her. It would be scandalous when he must attend to me and she is of age. It is your duty as her ward to prepare her."

He stood in silence, unable to reply.

She waved her hand to dismiss him. "Now, go. The jewels have been set out on the table next to the door."

She had been right, of course, but it did nothing to make him feel better.

It still felt too intimate. As a child, he had always admired his father when he adorned his mother. He made sure to always be present in his mother's dressing room before any function so that he may observe his father. It was only in those moments as his father adorned his mother, he saw the love they held for each other.

Draco had always imagined the first time he would adorn someone would be his wife, as it had been for his father. Instead, it was his ward, and he could not help but imagining what it would be like had his first time been with this wife, as a sign of deep held affection. Thus, while it was his duty, he felt a loss. This was something he would never be able to give away again. With that, Hermione took something away from him, a part of him.

"Now Granger, if you would stop gaping, I could put this on you," he had said dryly, emotions spinning in his head.

He saw the glare she gave him before she moved her hair out of the way. He ignored the way his heart ached and focused instead on his actions, his duty.

He lifted the necklace out of its case and unclasped it. It really was long enough to slip over her head, but this seemed to be appropriate, more formal. An occasion such as this called for formality. He continued with the earrings and delicately inserted them one by one.

It was a matter of pride, he had been told as a child. The adorer, so to speak, took pride in how delicately he treated the one he was adorning. It was insulting to tell the man of the household his wife must wince before every event due to the treatment she received.

One wince, one ouch, was enough to ruin a man in front of a woman. Thus, he did everything with great care and grace.

In the end, they shared no words. They had said everything they needed to say previous to this moment. Any spoke word seemed crude and unrefined, unable to convey the correct message. All words that needed to be spoken were conveyed in her eyes as he caught her gaze in the mirror.

It was with that he left and found himself in the hall.

It had all been too much. Hermione's presence alone was too much, but with adorning it was overwhelming. He took a few moments in the hall to grieve for his loss, the part of him which was taken by her. She now held not only his life's blood, but his first step into adulthood as well, for his first adorning should have been in the presence of his future mother and father-in-law.

He could not think about it. It was too much to sort out. There were more important things to worry about, like getting through this night alive. He would revisit his thoughts at a later time.

* * *

Not long after, Narcissa came to find Hermione.

"Ah, Draco did find you after all," Narcissa exclaimed as she entered the room. "He did not harm you in any way?"

Hermione shook her head, slightly confused at the odd question. "He was surprisingly gentle," she replied.

Narcissa nodded, as though in approval of Draco's work. "I had Daisy go fetch your cloak. We are to meet the men downstairs before apparating to Parkinson Manor. Draco will side apparate you along." She paused as a more serious tone took her voice. "Once we arrive there, you know your role. Stay with Draco. I know he will do his best to keep you safe."

Hermione looked at the older woman and nodded.

Narcissa paused to look at Hermione, as though assessing the integrity of her nod, before speaking. "I hope you do the same."

Hermione looked at her surprised. At first, she did not understand, but slowly realization dawned on her. Next to the Dark Lord, she was of the highest rank. It was Narcissa Malfoy's wish that she use that power to protect her son.

Narcissa saw Hermione understood and turned to exit the room. Hermione followed soon after her.

They made their way to the parlor where a house elf was waiting with both cloaks. Both the men stood to one side of the small elf, awaiting the arrival of the two ladies. No words or looks were exchanged. Each of the men took a cloak to dress the women. Hermione went towards Draco. It only seemed appropriate. As he helped her into her clock, she looked at him in curiosity. Their eyes met and his intense gaze made her heart race in her chest.

He held out his arm as he still held her gaze. She took it, and together they made their way outside the wards.

The night air was cool, but not cold. There was a slight breeze as they walked a small way across the snow covered grounds to the gardens. There, they would apparate out, as only family could.

A silence blanketed them. She could hear the quiet whispers of Narcissa and Lucius ahead of them. The occasional rustle of trees accompanied them. Draco spoke nothing as they walked quietly in the winter night. She followed him, without a word, only the sounds of her soft footsteps filled the air between them.

Perhaps, it was as result of Hermione taking something from him. Perhaps, as a result, she had taken more than just his experience. Whatever the reason was, Draco found himself unable to stop the next words that came out of his mouth.

"You look beautiful."

Hermione stopped to look at him as he continued to walk, in an effort to brush it off as nothing, a passing comment. Hermione heard those soft words though and could find nothing to say in reply. Instead, she chose not to question him and continued to walk by his side.

Once they arrived at the apparation point, Draco turned to look at her. She slowly met his gaze and saw that the look which appeared moments before was now gone. His mask was back in place. She nodded her head to let him know she was ready and he soon after apparated.

Hermione took a moment to re-orientate herself when they arrived. Apparating always had that effect on her. She took hold of Draco's arm as she regained control of her balance and her senses. Despite her disorientated state, her mind registered that Draco's other hand rested on the small of her back. It presented a rather small, odd sort of comfort to her in this lion's den.

Together, they were in this together.

She straightened up and looked at the mansion that stood in front of her.

It was quite different from Malfoy Manor. Whereas Malfoy Manor had an ancient feel to it, this Manor had a very young feel to it. The walls of the Manor were still a cream color which showed that years of weathering had not yet blackened them. The Manor looked warm and inviting with its lights and colors, but Hermione felt none of the ease that the Manor conveyed. It was to her a beautiful cobra just waiting for a chance to strike at the unaware passerby.

She saw Narcissa and Lucius Malfoy move towards the Manor. Soon after, Hermione and Draco followed suit. Together they walked up the winding pathway, one step at a time.

Beside her, she could tell that Draco was preparing himself for battle, all previous encounters forgotten. Following suit, Hermione did the same. She cleared her mind and tried to focus on the fight in front of her. The emotions due to the previous encounters of both parties were set aside.

She was terrified. One wrong move could end her life tonight. It was her first and only chance to get something right in a society she had only begun to learn about. She couldn't think about the consequences. Instead, she chose to keep her mind blank. She ignored all her fears and looked at the path in front of her.

The door to the Manor opened upon their arrival. House elves were awaiting the arrival of guests within the foyer. Casually, Narcissa and Lucius handed their cloaks to the house elves as people stopped to stare. Whispers began to circulate and Hermione could feel all eyes on her.

"They brought her, the mudblood," ladies hissed in hushed whispers and pointed fans.

"No!" a shocked, whispered gasp. "Where?"

"I don't know what he sees in her."

"A disgrace, to know the Malfoy's associate with such filth. I hear she's staying with them, has been for the past two weeks."

Hermione told herself to think nothing of the whispers and the pointed looks. Draco took her cloak from her, gently, as though her were used to dressing and undressing her. Together they looked familiar, intimate. As he his touch lightly caressed her shoulder, she turned to look at him and caught a fierce look in his eyes. She imagined they mirrored her own. They would fight and make it out alive, together. His eyes reassured her in a way his touch could not. She steadied herself as Draco went to hand their cloaks to the house elves.

Ready, together, the Malfoys and the Angelus walked to the ball room.

Hermione took a breath as they stood in front of the door. They had purposely chosen to arrive fashionably late to create the scene they desired. Already, it was in effect. Tonight was their night. It was the Malfoy clan that would shine.

A well placed charm announced their arrival to the ballroom.

"Presenting Lucius and Narcissa Malfoy with their son Draco Malfoy and his partner Hermione Granger."

As the doors opened, Hermione felt her mind and her heart open to the new world presented in front of her. As she stood at the top of the stair case, all she could see was the gold which surrounded her. From the lights to the people, everyone had a glow to them, and to imagine that she was at the top of this world presented to her was both thrilling and daunting at the same time.

However, once they reached the floor, Hermione was presented with the harsh reality of her situation and the danger which accompanied it. That golden world was far from hers.

"I'm overjoyed that you could make it tonight Narcissa," Vivienne Parkinson announced as she approached them. She greeted Narcissa with a hug and a light kiss on the cheek. Narcissa smiled back as she returned the hug.

"It has been too long Vivienne" Narcissa replied warmly. Hermione and everyone around them knew there was no truth in those words. However, the rules must be followed and propriety observed. The men exchanged greetings quietly. This was the woman's field. It would be them who set the tone for tonight.

Vivienne returned the smile and moved on to a new target: Hermione.

"I see you have brought a friend Draco," Vivienne exclaimed as she examined Hermione.

Hermione remained silent with a blank smile plastered on her face. She knew it was not her place to speak. She would allow Narcissa to set the stage. Draco stood at her side with the same smile upon his face. He made sure his arm was wrapped firmly around Hermione's waist. To the casual onlooker, it looked rather possessive.

"Yes, it was so kind of you to extend an invitation to our guest," Narcissa replied warmly. Draco let go of Hermione as she gave a bow to present her gratitude. She made herself appear humbled and honored to be invited to such an event. It was the proper gestures for a muggle born witch, the lowest rung on the ladder tonight.

"It was nothing," Vivienne brushed off even as the apparent glee at mortifying the Malfoy's was in her eyes. They shone with ambition and greed. She turned once again to Hermione and flashed a bright smile. "I do hope you enjoy your night here, as it is your first."

Hermione knew the meaning behind her words. It was Hermione's first night here, and, if Vivienne Parkinson had anything to do with it, her last. She was not welcome. Her purpose there was purely for the benefit of the Parkinson's overcoming the Malfoy name. She was to be a pawn in their power game.

Hermione pasted a unsure smile, one which conveyed both awe and terror at this new experience as she replied, "Thank you." The words were accompanied with a small bow. She felt Draco's approval when he put his arm around her again.

Vivienne returned the reply with a rather fake smile to convey her delight. She turned her attention to Narcissa. "While I would love to stay and chat Narcissa, I must see to how our other guests are doing. I do hope you enjoy the night," Vivienne said. Other small talk was exchanged about having tea in the future. Soon after, the Parkinsons left.

It left the four of them together, alone for a few precious moments before the masses came down on them. She exchanged a glance with Narcissa. Her eyes said everything Hermione needed to hear. It made Hermione remember all her lessons and strengthen her resolve to make it through the night, triumphant.

"Watch out for her Draco," Lucius hissed as he and Narcissa were swept away. A flurry of people awaited them, to pay their respects and gain the possible favor of the Malfoy name. For Hermione, and the rest of the Malfoy family, their fight for survival had begun.

Hermione stood next to Draco as they made their way to join the crowds of people, observing them first in curiosity, then in awe. The golden tone died down until she could see the world in color. She saw dresses of all hues, vibrant red, and emerald green. Men and women of all ages and generations were gathered together. It was amazing and unnerving to think the Dark Lord's hand reached so far.

"Imagine, seeing Hermione Granger, here of all places."

It was with those words that their first battle had begun.

Hermione turned to see Pansy Parkinson standing in front of Draco and her, a champagne flute in hand. Pansy wore a strapless emerald green dress of chiffon with a magnificent train. Her face wore a smile, but her eyes showed a different story. Pansy turned to Draco, disregarding Hermione completely.

"Pansy," Draco hissed as he held Hermione closer to him, his arm still around her waist. Whether this was for Hermione's safety or his, she couldn't be sure.

Pansy's eyes flashed in what Hermione assumed to be anger at Draco's movement. Had it been anyone but Pansy, Hermione would have stood her ground. However, with Pansy, this anger was personal, and that scared her. She had already experienced personal anger with Harry and Ron. She wanted nothing more of it. Thus, Hermione turned her body towards Draco's and lightly grabbed the front of his shirt. She did not cling, but she held on due to familiarity. He was her Guardian, and she knew he would protect her.

Pansy paused, startled by Hermione's movement. She closed her mouth and observed the two of them, sipping on her champagne. It was as though she were taking in the sight before her and contemplating what to say, remaking her game plan, and effectively switching from plan A to plan B. Meanwhile, Hermione and Draco stood together as a united front. Draco held her close to him, and she continued to grasp onto him.

Finally, Pansy made her move.

"I must admit Draco," she began. "When I first heard you were dating the mudblood, I didn't believe it. I thought you had better tastes."

Draco met her look. He said nothing as he glared at her, challenging her to continue. Hermione said nothing as she hid in Draco's arms. It was not her fight. She felt Pansy's anger grow as she continued her little monologue.

"I want to know what game you're playing at Draco," Pansy began as she took a step towards him, them. "That Draco Malfoy, pureblood son of Lucius Malfoy would suddenly lock lips with Hermione Granger, muggle friend of the Golden Trio," she paused a few steps from them. Hermione knew it was only her presence which stopped Pansy from approaching Draco further. With distaste, she said, "Something doesn't fit."

Together, Hermione and Draco said nothing. Pansy looked at them and Hermione could feel her frustration at their lack of reaction. She imagined, perhaps, that the anger Pansy felt towards them was due to Hermione's place in Draco's life, and his lack of opposition, even if it was fabricated. She couldn't be sure. However, Pansy's next words proved that Hermione, whether the cause or not, would be the target of her anger.

"That Malfoy would be with Granger, that much I can understand," she spoke, her gaze shifting focus from Draco to Hermione. "However, what doesn't makes sense is you Granger," she exclaimed, finger pointed, a dark look on her face.

Hermione wanted to ignore her gaze and hide in Draco's chest again, but she couldn't bring herself to look away. Instead, she felt apprehension rise in her chest as she saw the predatory gaze in Pansy's eyes.

"You have every reason to hate Draco, and yet, you cling to him," she said and leaned over to Hermione's ear. Hermione tried her best to keep her distance, but there was only so far she could go. Draco tried to put his other arm around her to shield her, but Pansy would have none of it. She held up arm and stopped him a glare. "What did you do Granger?" she hissed so softly, Hermione had trouble hearing her. "Did you seduce him into your bed? Do you scream his name as--"

"I think that's enough Pansy."

Silence ensued as they all turned to look at Blaise.

He took a hold of Pansy's arm as he stood behind her. He was dressed similarly to Draco, in a dark, royal blue, almost black suit. Pansy sent him a pointed glare, which he ignored. He met Hermione's gaze and sent her a smile.

"Would you like to dance?" he asked, hand outstretched, as though nothing were out of the ordinary. He still had a hold of Pansy's arm as he held out his hand.

Hermione gave him her first genuine smile of the night, both in amusement and relief. She had no desire to hear the rest of what Pansy had to say. In her relief, she almost said yes. However, she paused and looked up at Draco, as though to ask his permission.

Draco nodded and leaned over, as though to kiss her neck. "Stay close to him. He will not allow harm to come to you." He paused as he pulled back and gave her waist a small squeeze. "Be careful."

She grabbed his hand as it slid down her waist and gave him a smile in response to reassure him. He returned the smile with his eyes, and she turned to take Blaise's hand, leaving Pansy and Draco alone. Perhaps that was the real reason for Blaise's intervention.

As they made their way to the dance floor, Hermione was aware for the first time of how many people had been observing their exchange. There were numerous whispers and glances, both in the direction of Pansy and Draco, but also at Blaise and herself.

By leading her to the dance floor, it presented to those present that he was allying himself with the mudblood. They had seen the exchange and saw his intervention. Hermione was well aware that his actions were of no benefit to him. At least, not yet.

"Is it okay--"

"It's fine Hermione," Blaise replied, cutting her off. He took her hand and they began to dance. "I've lived in this world of whispered looks and glances all my life. A few more is nothing to fret about."

Hermione looked up at him, startled that he used her first name, and saw him smile once mroe. She realized, it was nice to hear her name after so long. Draco, for the most part, called her by her surname, whether that be Granger or Angelus, never Hermione. The use of her name and his smile in return made her smile and she relaxed, realizing she was in safe hands.

Together, they danced, waltzing around the ballroom. After one dance in silence, they began to speak. After the second dance they began to laugh, so that Hermione forgot how much was at stake tonight. She began to enjoy herself.

Blaise gave Hermione a smirk, "I enjoyed your Christmas present."

Hermione laughed as he swirled her around. "I thought you would find it amusing."

"I certainly did," he replied laughing. He grinned as he asked, "Did you enjoy my gift?"

Hermione laughed once more, recalling Draco's reaction. "Yes, I enjoyed it very much."

As though he knew whom she was thinking about, he said, "Though, I suppose mine pales in comparison."

Hermione's laughter died as she saw his gaze rest upon the ring on her hand. The song had come to an end and they found themselves standing still on the dance floor, hands still poised to dance. Reality set in as she regarded him curiously. Draco, her Guardian. Her, the Angelus. Then, a voice interrupted her thoughts.

"If you have nothing better to remark upon, then you'd best be on your way," Draco drawled. They looked over to see him approaching from a few steps away. Hermione knew he was hardly thrilled at the attention the ring was receiving. She was less than thrilled too. Her ring and his knife, they felt like private promises made to each other, only to be known by each other.

"Draco," Blaise replied politely with the nod of his head. He looked down at Hermione and let go of her hand, taking a small step away.

Hermione looked at Draco. While his face betrayed nothing, his eyes looked troubled. She wanted to ask him what Pansy had said. Instead, she held out her hand for Draco to take. He understood and with another nod to Blaise, he led her to dance.

She remained silent as they twirled around the floor. She wanted to respect his privacy, so she instead focused on those around her. It would help to ground herself once more and realize the seriousness of tonight.

She saw all eyes upon them. Young and old, all wanted to know the dynamic between the young Malfoy and his new found dirty little play thing. They would want to see how he treated her and the position of authority and power which Draco wielded over her. For him to appear weak to Hermione would mean that he was becoming soft. It was something which could be used against him by those more ambitious in the pureblood world. In addition, they were assessing her value to the young Malfoy. Were she treasured, she could easily be used as blackmail to make the Malfoy clan bend to whom ever's will.

Hermione gazed across the crowd as they flawlessly danced to the music. She knew they currently outshone all other couples on the dance floor. She was careful not to make eye contact with anyone. She wanted to know who was here, who her enemies were. She analyzed them as she would any problem. She drew up from her knowledge things which would protect her.

"My sister Bellatrix is simple enough to deal with. She is a simple woman of big ambition. Allow her to believe she will get her way and she will follow your word willingly." Narcissa had explained during their lessons. "Her husband, however, is far more cunning than his demure figure suggests. There is a reason why he chose to marry Bellatrix Black. He saw her blindness and used that to his advantage. She was the path to a great and noble family, and through her, he would have access to even higher families, such as the Malfoys. He thinks before he acts. He is however, over cautious, which is the one thing you can hold against him. Should he find any flaw in his endeavors, he will back down, for he is a man who would rather risk nothing than to risk something and fail."

"What did Pansy say to you?" Draco finally asked as they continued to twirl on the dance floor, returning her to the present.

She looked up at him. Perhaps he had heard nothing of her one-sided conversation with Pansy. For that, she was grateful.

"It was nothing," she replied. She didn't want to think of those words. They were dirty, filthy. Instead, she wanted to enjoy the moment, dancing with him, as she had with Blaise.

He gave her a glare. "I've known Pansy since we were both four and she had everyone wrapped around her little finger with false smiles and lies. Of course she said something to you."

Hermione replied simply, annoyed that he would not drop the subject. If they could not talk about pleasant things, she would rather have them dance in silence.

"What was said is between me and her, just as what she said to you is between you and her."

Draco looked at her irritated. He had no reply to her response because it was the truth. He could demand to know as her Guardian, but that would be a rather low-hitting move. Instead, silence pursued as they continued to dance.

Step by step, they flowed across the dance floor with such grace that onlookers were commenting not on their relationship, but rather on their skill. Still, she knew as they danced that his mind was elsewhere. Thus, after a while, she spoke.

"If I ask what transpired between you and Pansy, would you tell me?"

Draco looked down at her, an unreadable look in his eyes. He looked surprised almost, that she would ask such a forward question. He was about to reply when their next guest was announced.

"Presenting Lord Tom Marvolo Riddle."

There was silence in the room as the doors opened. All music came to a halt as people turned their gazes to the entrance of the ball room. Draco had let his arm fall to his side. However, Hermione kept hold of his hand which was clasped in hers. She did not want to let go.

The grand doors opened and in walked Lord Voldemort. However, instead of his snake like appearance, he appeared human. She imagined he used a rather powerful glamor to project an image of his past self. He had an air of power about him. His projection was charismatic, charming. Everything one would imagine in a visionary leader.

Those in the room bowed down on one knee. Hermione and Draco followed suit.

Hermione knew the moment the Dark Lord looked at her. She felt his gaze fall upon her.

She was terrified. Her heart had dropped when the name had been announced. They had known the Dark Lord would make himself present tonight. That is why they had prepared Hermione for her presentation even more rigorously than before. Still, even with the vaguest forewarning, nothing had prepared her for this. She felt her heart pound as he spoke his next words.

"Rise," he said and while it sounded as though he was speaking to them all, she knew he was speaking to her specifically. She knew his gaze did not leave her as she stood. She braced herself and lifted her head to meet his red eyes.

It was a whisper. She could not begin to fathom how she heard the words which left his lips from across the room. "Angelus."

The whole room froze once more and then all chaos let loose.

People spoke in hushed whispers as the Dark Lord approached Hermione Angelus.

Hermione made sure to let go of Draco's hand.

She kneeled once more to the Dark Lord when he stood in front of her. Draco followed her suit.

When Draco moved, the Dark Lord's gaze moved from Hermione to Draco.

"You knew," he hissed. His red eyes flashed dangerously.

"Yes, my Lord." Draco replied. There was no fear in his voice, but Hermione saw how tense his hand beside her was. She refrained from reaching out to him once more. That would give away too much.

"You did not think it worth mention?" the Dark Lord hissed in anger.

"When we last met, I had just found out," Draco replied calmly from his kneeling position. "I did not want to misinform you my Lord."

Hermione knew every word that came out of Draco's mouth was shit and the Dark Lord knew it too. Draco had lied. Draco had voluntarily with held information. Draco was in big trouble.

Anger flashed violently on the Dark Lord's face. His wand hand rose in the air, as to deliver swift judgment upon Draco. Then, he paused and stopped. The anger on his face smoothed out to a dark smile. No, something much worse was to come.

"Very well," the Dark Lord said as he eyed the girl in front of him. "If you are truly the Angelus, you will be able to save him."

Hermione followed his gaze. Draco. He meant she had to save Draco.

"What will you do to him?" she whispered as fear began to eat her.

The Dark Lord grinned. "Nothing he doesn't deserve."

Hermione stood in horror as the Dark Lord approached the young Malfoy.

"You will not harm him," Hermione demanded. Her will was strong but fear over rid her voice so that it came out shaken. "He is my Guardian. I will punish him as I see fit."

The Dark Lord laughed. "For one so young and so new to this world, you are eager to wield power and authority." He turned to look at her. She met his gaze full on and fear chilled her wild heart. "You have yet to learn many things. Power will not be given so willingly, even to the likes of the Angelus. The young Malfoy is mine to control. Therefore, he will be mine to punish as I see fit." He paused and glared at her. "If you are unable to heal him, know that you will suffer a fate far worse than his because you will have wasted my time and a valuable asset to my team."

Without warning a shot was fired and all Hermione could hear were Draco's screams. She didn't know what was being done to him, but she could feel it. She could feel his pain and his fear. She could also feel his anger; at whom it was directed, she could not tell.

Those few minutes were the longest of her life. Each second took an eternity and she knew she would hear Draco's screams in her sleep for a long while.

She knew the others were watching and couldn't help but feel fear. She feared that those who cared about him would hate her for putting him in such a position. That thought alone killed her spirit.

When the Dark Lord was done, he walked away, as though Draco were nothing but a bloody pool of trash. There was so much blood. The white marble floor beneath him was colored in bright crimson. His skin was pale and his eyes closed.

"Begin."

Hermione rushed to his side. She hadn't known until she felt a wetness that she had been crying. Tears ran down her cheeks as she began to assess what was done to him.

"I'm so sorry," Hermione murmured to comfort him as she listed his injuries in her mind. There was severe internal bleeding. His mind was damaged as results of the aftershock of such a horrible curse.

She did what came instinctively to her. She knew he held on him her dagger. She took it and cut open the front of his shirt. She heard gasps of shock and horror, but they were of no matter to her. Above his heart, she made two swift cuts to make a cross. His life blood spilled out and she heard Narcissa scream in horror. Hermione gritted her teeth as she slit her own palm. The blood pooled and she made a fist as the blood dripped down crimson onto his heart wound.

Hermione whispered, "May mine become one with yours."

The magic began as she felt his internal wounds heal and the bleeding stop. A string of charms and incantations came out of her, one after the other to finalize what the blood magic had begun.

To heal his mind, she bent over and kissed his forehead as she moved his hair aside. She thought nothing of it, its implications, how it may seem to others. To her, it was an action done to heal him and within that kiss conveyed her strong desire to heal, nothing more.

"Waken."

His eyes opened and frantically searched until he found hers.

_Granger._ He asked questioningly as he searched her eyes for answers.

_It's Angelus _She replied relief filling her voice.

They looked at each other to affirm that they had made it, that they had succeeded.

Hermione still had tears in her eyes as her gaze met Draco's. His hand reached out hesitantly toward her face.

There was a stale clap. Its sound echoed in the silent ball room. Draco's hand fell back to his side.

"Bravo Angelus. Bravo," the Dark Lord announced as he smiled down upon her. "You have passed."

She glared back, furious. She knew in that moment she could not trust him. The Dark Lord did not see value in life, the individual. He saw each life as a pawn, a piece in the game of power, each one expendable, each one of no importance other than the money and power they themselves wielded. He saw no preciousness in love, family and friends. She would never forgive him for purposely harming her Guardian. It did not matter that she and Draco argued or hated one another. They were duty bound to each other in name and blood. That alone demanded respect. She would have never done what the Dark Lord did tonight.

"Tonight, we have had the honor of witnessing the awesome power of the Angelus," the Dark Lord exclaimed. "I feel like a father who has found his long lost daughter and am overwhelmed with emotion. I am ready to welcome her back into our home by my side where she belongs."

When the last words died on his lips and the crowd roared in applause, he looked over at her and their eyes met.

She could read them as clearly as he could read hers. This was not over.

No, their game had only just begun.

Thus, it was with that in mind, Hermione left.

She left. She took Draco and left. She wasn't sure if Lucius and Narcissa were following. She didn't care.

She held his wrist as she walked out of the Manor, dragging him along. She knew he was sore, but well enough to walk, despite having his second near death experience. She didn't bother with the carriages. She walked to the gates and past the wards. Once she was out of their reach, she apparated with Draco alongside her.

It was easy enough. All she had to do was envision the place she had called home for the past week. She imagined the dark, brooding Manor walls covered in snow. She imagined her sunny bedroom with its massive bed. She imagined Draco's bedroom, or at least, his sitting space.

She stormed into the Manor, startling the house elves awaiting the return of their Master and Mistress. Draco said nothing as she dragged him to her room, knowingly or unknowingly. It was only after she had let him go that he spoke. He stood close to the door and she had flown to gaze out the window.

Finally, Draco spoke, as though to test the waters. "Granger"

"I will not serve someone who will so carelessly hurt his subjects," Hermione said from her place by the window. She turned to look at him, and he saw fury in her eyes. "While I may not understand what it is to be the Angelus, I know that this is not it."

"Then what will you have us do?" Draco hissed in reply. He was furious at her outburst. Were there a way to kill the bastard and get away with it, he would have done it already. Draco though, would not risk his family in an attempt on the Dark Lord's life. "Will you have us killed?" He shouted. Too much had happened for him tonight.

"No," she spoke firmly. "I will seek help."

"Help," he laughed. There was nothing light about his tone. "No one would dare to help the Malfoys, much less the Angelus," Draco replied. He resented her. He resented her for having dreams that he had once had. He resented her for having dreams he had thrown away and forsaken, for having dreams he too still longed for.

"Then I will do so alone," she replied calmly, a firm resolve in her voice.

He looked at her seriously now and realized she was not lying. She would find help, and if she could not find help, she would do this alone. She was more foolish than he initially thought. Stupid Gryffindor.

Before he could speak she said quietly in a soft tone, "You do not have to be a part of this. This is my decision."

She knew he had more than his life at stake. He had a family, a home. His actions affected his life and theirs. They were connected. She was now free of all such connections. Perhaps it was both a blessing and a curse. Right now though, it made her decision easier.

She was right. He could have no part in this mad scheme. He could walk away with his life and wish the best for her. His family would be safe. She forgot one point though: she was his ward. He sighed. "Angelus," he addressed her as such for the first time. It grabbed her attention. "The moment you chose to oppose the Dark Lord, it became my decision as well."

She had a look of surprise on her face. He continued to explain. "As your guardian, I am obligated to protect you in whatever endeavor you choose to part take in. It was in my blood oath to you. I can not turn my back on it."

She took back all thoughts of her obligations. She thought she had none now. She had no family or friends to look after. She realized now though that the bond between guardian and ward went further than she had initially suspected. She knew that if she asked him to die, he would, not so much because he had any desire to do so, but because of his duty to her. Thus, she now had a guardian to care for. It made her realize there was a warped sort of balance between the two positions. While the guardian took care of her from harm, the ward provided protection in the way of decisions.

Hermione knew Draco enough to know that he would honor her decisions and follow her to where life lead her, but she could see the way his eyes burned, the anguish in them. It was then she knew the outcome of her actions. Without meaning to, she had enslaved him. She knew his sense of pride, and their blood bond, would not allow him to leave her side with his debt unpaid. He would do ask she asked, and she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

It was at that moment they felt the wards trigger to announce the presence of Narcissa and Lucius. It seemed that they had left not long after their departure. She could imagine they had took the minimal time to say their goodbyes and parting words as was polite and came to check up the both of them.

Without a word, together, they made their way to the foyer.

Narcissa ran to Draco when she saw them descending the stairs. There was clear panic in her eyes. "Are you okay?" she inquired as she inspected him over for any signs of injury. She had him in a tight hug. All the composure Narcissa normally displayed was gone and in its place was a worried mother.

"I am fine mother," he replied calmly as he tried to extract himself from her hug.

"Thank God," Narcissa exclaimed. "I thought my heart stopped when he attacked you." She paused to gather herself before continuing. "There was so much blood..."

"He's fine dear," Lucius said as he approached them, calm. However, Hermione saw his expression was strained. "We have the Angelus to thank for that."

Narcissa regarded her for the first time since they had arrived. "Yes. Angelus, thank you. Without you..."

"It is my duty as Draco's ward to look after his welfare," Hermione replied formally when she found Narcissa at a loss of words. She knew of no other way to address the emotional state Narcissa was in.

"You did well tonight Angelus," Lucius continued. Hermione could see he was trying to be strong for his wife. She could read the fear in his eyes at what the outcome of tonight could have been. "There was much talk after you left. The Dark Lord would dare not make you an enemy, if not for the fact that the entire pureblood society is behind you, then for your healing abilities. I believe he sees them as...useful." She could see a hint of dark amusement in Lucius' eyes as he said this. "You proved yourself a formidable opponent. Bravo."

"We have, thus, provided the first move," Lucius continued. "We have shown them our power and authority. Now we sit and wait for their next move. Meanwhile, we must not lose our footing or step. Do nothing in haste and be even more cautious than before. I have no doubt that news of your existence will appear soon."

Hermione looked at Lucius and nodded.

Narcissa stepped away from Draco, smoothing her skirt and regaining her composure. She looked at her husband as Hermione caught Draco's gaze. She saw something intense there. There was challenge. She imagined her eyes mirrored his.

It was simple. Their game had begun.

* * *

Thank You very much for reading! Please leave a Review!


	11. Chapter 10

Hello Everyone.

It's been about a year now since I've updated. I realize that is a long time.

Like I've explained, if Angelus was divided into parts, I fee like chapter 9 was the end of Part I. As a result, I wanted to take a break and also take some time to figure out how I wanted to continue to develop the plot. After many writing blocks, lost of muse, and so on, I have finally got done with the next chapter. it is a little shorter I believe than my past chapters, but I'll make up for it in the next few.

I want to thank all of you who have taken the time to read this story and re-read this story. Your reviews are always so motivating. Thank you!

Here it is. I hope you enjoy!

* * *

Chapter

Draco had not spoken to her since that night.

It was easy enough to explain at the Manor. The Manor was large, and one could easily avoid another if one desired, as she had noted before. It was something, to her knowledge, that Malfoy took full advantage of both before and after the ball. Thus, it was Narcissa who informed her of their departure details and Narcissa who continued to oversee her stay at the Manor.

His behavior was harder to explain at school.

They had been in school for a week now, and she had yet to hear a word from him. They continued to attend class together, always sitting next to each other when possible. He would still touch her, put his arm around her waist. He would even lean in occasionally as though to whisper something in her ear, but he spoke not a word, yet, when he pulled away, he had a smirk on his face and Hermione did her part to blush.

Each time it happened, she wanted to ask him why, and each time she decided to keep her mouth shut, smile, and play along.

She wasn't quite sure how she felt about it.

She wanted very much to be angry with him, upset, frustrated, or annoyed. However, anytime she thought about the matter, she couldn't quite make up her mind.

One thing was for sure though: it hurt.

Draco's blatant avoidance of her hurt. The way he put so much effort into keeping his distance away from her, as though she were some sort of disease, hurt.

So, while in class she looked radiant, as a muggle-born girl who had just spent the holidays with her pureblood boyfriend should be, when she was alone in her room, she often found herself lying in bed, holding a pillow to her chest.

* * *

"Malfoy, are you listening to me?" Professor Severus Snape hissed as he glanced at Draco Malfoy who currently occupied an upholstered high-back chair located in the professor's personal study. It faced the brightly lit fireplace, as the air was still quite brisk in January, especially in the Dungeons where it had a tendency to be continually damp.

"Of course Professor," Draco replied in a calm tone as he looked up. His hands were clasped together as his elbows rested on the armrests. He looked the ideal attentive student. Suspicious, Snape looked at the boy with a keen eye from where he stood by the mantel. He was no fool. He had known the boy since his birth and saw how, at the age of three, he had employed whining, with pouts and tears included, as a tactic to convince his mother to give him another chocolate frog, as an example. Severus knew better than to trust such a boy now at the age of eighteen.

"Draco Malfoy, you will stop this foolish behavior now."

Draco's lips fell into a frown at these words. He knew the Professor had not been fooled. He could never fool Professor Snape. Inwardly, as he once again began to school his facial features, he cursed the Professor with every bit of colorful language he could think of. He was not in the mood to be lectured by his professor. It did not matter if he deserved it. He had every legitimate reason for his unreasonable behavior, a certain Hermione née Granger.

The night of the ball, he had felt too much, thought too much. Her actions alone that night were enough to think about. She had given him her life's blood, again. Once was enough to bind him to her for life. He did not want to think of the consequences of being the recipient of her life's blood once more.

He was falling further and further into her debt.

That is why, when she said she would oppose the Dark Lord, he wanted to scream at her, shout at her, anything to get her to understand the position she was putting him in. She was asking him to forsake his family and put them in danger. She was asking him to put her goal, her desire, her ambitions and her dreams above his own and stand by her side, her guardian.

What frustrated him the most, however, was that she was well within her rights to ask this of him. She had saved his life twice.

He would have preferred to bleed to death on that ball room floor.

Instead, she saved him and put him in a gilded cage, trapped by blood magic.

It disgusted him. He was no better than a slave.

His logic and instinct told him that Hermione would never ask him to bend to her will. However, if not for the blood magic, she still held a life debt over him, and his sense of pride would not, could not endure being the subject to someone's will.

Debts, however, must be repaid in full, as a Malfoy never lives without surplus within his vaults. He would follow her to hell, need be, to fulfill all that he owed her, if it didn't kill his sense of self, and pride, first.

"I was told by our Lord that information of the Angelus will be released in the press tomorrow morning," Snape finally announced.

Draco regarded his Professor carefully. This was no bluff. The Dark Lord was going to tell Wizarding Britain of the Angelus' Birth.

Tactically, it made sense. The Angelus name alone instilled fear in even the oldest of pureblood families, even if they would not admit it. Among the muggle-born and half-born, it would cause panic of the masses. The Dark Lord would use this to bring more power to himself, and help to further the cause.

"You must let the Angelus know, so that she may act accordingly," Professor Snape continued. His hand grasped onto a small pewter figurine of an cauldron: a gift from his mother for his fifth birthday, one of a few.

"Of course," Draco replied and stood up from his chair as though to leave.

"Draco," Severus exclaimed as he placed the figurine on the mantle. He had enough of the little Malfoy's games. "You can not go on like this. One wrong move from you will mean the end of all of us," he said, as though he were lecturing in front of a bunch of first years. The first years would be fully intimidated by now and ready to leave the classroom.

"You think I don't know?" Draco said in reply as he turned towards Snape. There was nothing different about Draco's demeanor, Snape noted. He continued to look poised and confident. Draco's eyes, however, had a desperate look of anguish in them, something Severus Snape was very familiar with. He had felt it more often than not in his life.

Draco closed his eyes and sighed, leaning against the mantle of the fireplace. His back felt the almost uncomfortable warmth of the fire, but he did not move away. The discomfort it offered was welcomed.

"She plans to oppose the Dark Lord," Draco finally whispered as he looked to the ground. He observed there was a rather plush rug of a rich brown-black color under the coffee table. The table was located in front of the chair he had occupied only a moment ago. He began to analyze the individual strands as the silence continued.

"Of course," Severus finally stated flatly, as if it were the most obvious fact. Draco opened his eyes to stare at the Professor, as though to assess the integrity of his statement. He continued. "Hermione Granger would not follow one she believes to be corrupt or power hungry. The Angelus has changed, but she is still a product of her upbringing. She will make her own path and make those around her bend to her will. She will, of course, accept nothing less."

Draco said nothing to this. His gaze returned to the individual strands of what Draco had now decided was a rug from the Orient. He closed his eyes. Yes, Hermione, the Hermione Granger of the past had a strong sense of right and wrong. She was headstrong and determined, even while she was socially shy and kept mostly to herself.

His Professor was right. Nonetheless, it bothered him that the Professor knew more about his ward than he did.

It made him wonder what other things he had missed about his Ward while he was caught up in his own flurry of problems and question if he was correct in his interactions with his Ward recently.

"Well, since there is nothing more to discuss, I shall be retiring to my chambers," Snape finally announced when he saw that Draco would not respond.

With a whoosh of his cloak, Severus turned and walked away from the fire place, only to pause at the door way leading to his chambers. He stood there for several minutes in silence and took that moment to observe the young Malfoy, unbeknownst to Draco.

It came out as a whisper.

"But what of me...?"

Draco did not speak specifically, nor did he realize he had spoken out loud, but Severus replied.

"Make her goals your goals and her desires your desires."

Draco lifted his head up to gaze at his professor, startled, his mask breaking for the first time since he had entered the Potion Master's chambers. Severus' eyes betrayed nothing as he stood by the doorway, back straight and head held high.

His professor, a double-agent, for whom he did not know. Even after the death of Headmaster Dumbledore, Draco Malfoy did not know where his professor's loyalties lied. He only knew that Severus Snape had two masters who demanded what they would of Severus.

Perhaps, Draco thought, perhaps his professor understood.

"Like it or not, your circumstance will not change," Severus explained. "It is better to make the most of it."

With that Severus Snape retired to is chambers, leaving Draco alone to his thoughts.

* * *

"Tomorrow," Draco announced after he had quietly regarded Hermione who was still wake in their common room.

He had just returned from Snape's quarters. It was well past midnight, and yet, when he entered the common room, he saw Granger sitting upon the loveseat in front of the fireplace, a book in her lap while she gazed at the flames, her mind obviously elsewhere. Her eyes would occasionally drop into sleep only to suddenly open again. The cycle would repeat.

In that moment, he felt guilty and ashamed of his behavior as of late. Even while she was his Ward, even while she was the Angelus that had him bound two times over in Blood magic, she was still Granger, a mere girl, human with emotional needs.

Hermione looked up at Draco in surprise, mostly at the fact that he had spoken to her rather than his presence. She had been up, waiting for him, even while she would never admit it to him. To him, she was simply up, reading a rather engrossing book. She had saw when Snape spoke to him earlier towards the ends of potions, under the pretense of observing his potion. She saw the look in Draco's eyes, and she grew worried. When he didn't return after dinner, she decided to wait up for him, passing the time with her school work. Once she had finished her assignments, she had begun to read.

When he saw he had her attention, he continued.

"Tomorrow, in the paper, they're going to announce your presence."

That caught her attention. She sat up straighter, and the sleep she had felt only moments before left her. She closed the book in her lap and set it aside. "What do you mean?" she asked with a frown and a look of worry upon her face.

"Snape was told by the Dark Lord that the post tomorrow morning was going to run a story," Draco explained. He continued to stand by the loveseat, an armrest separating the two of them.

"Why would he allow such a thing?" Hermione inquired. She knew it would bring the wizarding world into a state of panic and unease, bring the Dark Lord more power, but it also brought her closer to danger and being revealed to the general public. It didn't make sense to her. It wasn't worth it.

"To instill fear," Draco replied simply.

"Of course," Hermione replied. "But, why was I not asked my opinion on such matters? It is, after all, my life they are discussing."

Draco paused and looked at her in mild surprise.

She had only been formally introduced to their society a few weeks ago, and already she was acting as though she owned the place. It was foolish because to survive, one did not question the Dark Lord's decisions, but also admirable because their society could have used more people like her. Then perhaps, the Dark Lord would have never risen to power.

"It's the Dark Lord's decision," Draco replied. He had no better response.

"Of course," she replied catching his gaze.

It unnerved him, so he continued to speak to fill the uneasy silence.

"Of course they won't run your name in the article or even have a picture, but it will be enough to create panic among the masses."

She continued to look at him.

Closing himself to the guilt he felt at once more neglecting her, he turned his back to her and headed for his room. He took each step with deliberate haste, to get himself out of there in the most efficient manner without making it seem like he was running away.

He thought he had succeeded. Then he heard her voice.

"Draco,"

He paused, his foot coming to a standstill as it landed on the floor. He stood in place, unable to take a step forward and unwilling to turn around and face her. He could feel her expectant gaze upon him, waiting for him to turn around before she said what was on her mind.

He couldn't stand it.

"Give me some time," he spoke in a subdued manner before walking into his room and shutting the door firmly behind him.

Hermione could do nothing but helplessly watch as Draco shut her out of his life once more.

* * *

As Draco had informed her the night before, news of the Angelus broke out at breakfast.

After staring at Draco's door for several minutes, she finally retired to her bedroom, books forgotten as they were left open on the coffee table and around the floor of the loveseat.

She wasn't sure how to feel about the news. A part of her was frightened. It brought her a step closer to revealing herself to the public, but most importantly, to her friends.

She had never had very many friends as a child due to her being different. When she had come to Hogwarts, it was still difficult to make friends. However, even while she hid away in her books and studies, Harry and Ron had somehow managed to break though and they'd been together ever since. Well, since this whole business had started.

She still missed them, very much, but she felt that her betrayal would be harder if she had stayed as close to them as in the past.

Thus, another meal sitting in quiet, alone.

She had tried her best to act as though it were any other day. To everyone else, it was any other day, at least, until the paper arrived. She was eating a bowl of oatmeal with cinnamon and honey when the first owls arrived.

It started out tame enough. She heard a few exclamations of "What?" and "Bloody Hell" from her House table before the whispers became a dull roar as people began to gasp and discuss the news printed before them on the front page.

Hermione, as a friend of Harry Potter, had long learned to ignore such reactions to the news printed in the Daily Prophet and continued to eat her meal in silence. However, as soon as the words "Angelus" were whispered, she did her best to hide the impulse to snatch the nearest paper and devour the words written, despite having been informed of its content. Instead, she took a few deep breaths as she continued to eat her oatmeal. After a few minutes, she grabbed a paper discarded on the seat next to her by a second year and began to read.

**The Return of the Angelus**

_By – Rita Seeker_

The Angelus, known right hand of the Dark Lord, and ruthless killer of muggles and purebloods alike, is alive and well! It is rumored by many that the Angelus made an appearance on New Year's Eve at the Annual Ball held at the Parkinson Manor this year. While details are unknown, eyewitness accounts say the Angelus was formally introduced to society that night. The last known Angelus was Marcus Angelus, who played a critical role during the Dark Lord's last reign of terror. Stay tuned for this developing story!

To learn more about the history of the Angelus, turn to page **B5**.

Hermione tried her best to ignore the way everyone spoke as she read the paper.

"A killer," they whispered.

"He's our age," another whispered as someone next to him said, "It could be a girl."

"It could be one of us," another hissed.

Silence rose as people looked around them, suspecting each other to be the Angelus. The whispers and looks continued as people ate their breakfast. Hermione did her best to ignore the talk and mechanically shovel food into her mouth.

Even if she had told herself that this would happen when the news came out, even if she had tried to prepare herself since the moment she had found out she was an Angelus, it still hurt.

* * *

Her first class was potions. It was one she was not looking forward to.

She realized upon returning that Ron and Harry were still upset with her, if not more upset. She knew Christmas accounted for a majority of their sour looks. Hermione had gotten something for everyone except them. Even Ginny looked unsure of how to approach the subject. While it would be appropriate to thank Hermione for her gift, she did not want to get on Harry's bad side, or her brother's for that matter. Thus, after small waves and hidden looks sent her way the first few days back from break, Ginny had now stopped and only nodded her head in acknowledgment of Hermione's presence.

Not that it really mattered. The Daily that morning made sure of that. She couldn't help but wonder if she should be, perhaps, a little grateful for the distraction it provided.

She slowly made her way to the dungeons when midway she saw Draco leaning against the wall of the corridor. She slowed down to a stop not far from him.

He looked lost, and Hermione could not help but wonder if perhaps Draco felt as though his life was turning upside-down as well. Her identity was tied to his life as well, after all.

He looked up at her and she continued walking, this time stopping in front of him.

He said nothing. There was an awkward sort of silence that Hermione wanted to fill. Before she could say a word, however, he held out his arm. She took it.

They walked in silence to the classroom. The halls were empty as it was mere minutes before classes were suppose to start for the day. Perhaps class had already began.

Draco had been watching her closely that morning. When the post came, he could see her tense up, her grip on her spoon so tight her knuckles looked white even from a distance. He saw her grab a paper as he too pretended to look at one with Blaise. He saw her calmly fold it back up and continue to eat what appeared to be oatmeal, and he could see the look in her eyes which said she was far from okay.

He realized he felt a pang of concern for the girl, and that he didn't like to see such looks upon her face. When Blaise inquired about his Ward, Draco sent him a glare and went back to eating his meal.

Still, the news worried him. It meant that people would be watching Slytherin more closely to find the identity of the Angelus. While she was tucked away safely in the lion's den, he had to be careful not to reveal her whereabouts. It also meant he had to keep a closer eye on his housemates, especially those who were present at the Ball.

"Be careful, and even more careful," he said as they finally came to a stop some distance from the classroom. "We do not know who is yet on our side."

Hermione looked up at him. He had said "our" not "your" side. She felt, for the first time since the ball that perhaps they were still in this together.

Perhaps Draco had just realized his mistake. As he opened his mouth to speak, Hermione cut him off with a small smile and a "I will." Then, she ignored the look on his face as she strode past him and walked into the nearly filled classroom before he could speak another word.

She chose a seat toward the front, one of the few desks open. Very few wanted to sit so close to the Potion's Master where at times, you were a mere arm length away. As she sat, she saw Severus Snape glance up from his place at his desk. His eyebrow rose in question at the absence of Draco. She looked towards the door as Draco entered the classroom to take a seat next to her. He was the last to enter the classroom.

"Good of you to join us Mr. Malfoy," Professor Snape exclaimed as the door shut with a bang. Hermione could see students jump from their seat, even if such sounds were expected with each lesson in the Dungeons.

"My pleasure, professor." Draco replied rather arrogantly. Hermione could see Severus internally fuming at Draco's cheek. Instead, he returned the comment with a small nod of the head. It was apparent to Hermione that their interlude last night had not left the two with warm fuzzy feelings for each other.

"I hope you had the wits to read your assignment for class today. Otherwise, this period will be far from pleasant today," Professor Snape sneered to the class. With the wave of his wand instructions appeared on the board behind him.

"You are to brew blood-replenishing potion today."

With that, the Professor Severus Snape began his lecture. While in normal circumstance, Hermione would be furiously writing down notes to subject matter she already knew, today she wrote very little of substance. Instead, Hermione found her mind constantly wandering to the boy to her left.

He sat as he did on any other day. He looked uninterested, as though he had more important things to do with him time, but his notes would often tell otherwise. Hermione knew that he wrote down important steps and memos each time he lifted his pen. Today, he did the same.

It felt wrong though. Things were not the same. The existence of the Angelus had been revealed that morning. With it, went her hopes of disappearing and living forever under the name Hermione Granger. He had said our side. Our side.

At the conclusion of his lecture, she rose with the rest of the class to their respective places, gathering the appropriate ingredients and preparing them along with her set up.

The time passed in relative ease. The task in front of her provided Hermione with something to set her mind upon, so she would not think of other things. The rhythmic chopping of potions ingredients, the clockwise and anticlockwise turns, they all helped to turn her thoughts elsewhere. She found it soothing. Perhaps this was the appeal of potions.

She was in the middle of cutting some mulberry leaves when Snape approached behind her. She did not hesitate in her movements. Instead, she remained relatively calm and comfortable, that is, until his hand whipped out and grabbed her wrist, causing her to drop her knife. The clatter, along with her wince had everyone's attention in one second flat. The fact that it was Hermione Granger had a majority of the classroom staring at her with eyes the size of saucers, Draco Malfoy excluded. He looked from her to the Professor, eyes narrowing as they progressed.

"What were you cutting with?" Snape hissed as his grip around Hermione's wrist grew tighter. She winced and tried to pull her wrist away in hopes is escaping his grasp.

"A twenty-four centimeter silver blade sir," Hermione replied, "as noted in the text."

He glared at her for cheek. Instead of picking up her blade, he instead picked up another, a bronze eighteen centimeter blade she had set on the counter for later use.

"I believe this was the blade in use," he exclaimed as he examined the blade.

Hermione looked at him in a mix of fury, shock and confusion. She schooled her features, as she had learned at the Manor, and, instead of instinctively dropping her jaw, Hermione looked at the Professor with a look of innocent confusion. He could see, however, the fury in her eyes which demanded an answer.

"The potion, Miss Granger, is very clearly ruined," he sneered loud enough for everyone to hear. "Start from the beginning," he announced as he vanished her current, rather perfect, potion.

She sent him a glare as she replied, "Yes Professor" and set about gathering ingredients once more. She knew very well this would mean she'd have to stay over the class period.

As she made her way to the stores, she saw Draco grab a cosmos flower stem and throw it into his potion. The result was the potion bubbling up and over the cauldron in a blue, sticky goo.

"What is the meaning of this?" Snape hissed furiously as he vanished the potion contents and made his way to Malfoy's station.

"A stem must have made it's way into my potion," Draco replied casually as he shrugged his shoulders. The look he sent Snape almost challenged him to do something.

Furious, Snape pointed to the door. "Get out."

Draco's smirk turned into a frown. "What?" he asked, his voice calm, but his eyes looked at Snape with anger.

"I said get out," the Professor replied giving Draco a slight push in the direction of the door.

They stared at each other for a few seconds, the tension in the room rising with each passing moment. Hermione found herself unable to breathe, anxious. She gripped her wand tightly in her right hand.

Finally, Draco gave in and began to back his things. She stood frozen, on her way to the storeroom, all propriety forgotten as she stared at Draco. On his way out, his shoulder crashed into hers, causing her to fly to the floor. She looked up at him as he paused to look down at her. Even while he sneered and his anger real, she realized in that moment that he was worried. It was with this thought that Hermione head Draco walk out and close the classroom door behind him.

As Hermione walked to the storeroom, she began to assess the facts. Snape ruined her potion for a reason. Most likely, the reason was to have her stay alone after class. Why he wanted her alone was still in question.

However, it was very clear to her that Draco Malfoy did not want Hermione alone with Severus Snape. As a result, he tried to sabotage his own potion and reputation in order to stay with her. However, this was foiled when he was dismissed rather than punished by starting over as Hermione had. Then, it also became very clear that Severus Snape wanted to be alone with Hermione, much to the displeasure of Draco Malfoy.

The rest of the class period passed silently as students rushed to finish their potions, unwilling to face the wrath of an angry Professor Snape. One by one the students bottled up their potions and left until only Hermione and the professor was left.

Once the final student had left and the door closed firmly behind them, Professor Snape made his way to Hermione and vanished her potion for the second time that day.

She glared at him, unable to form the words she had wanted. It seemed inappropriate to say such things to a Professor.

He simply raised an eyebrow. She continued to glare at him.

"You and I both know I did not want you here so you could finish your potion," he replied calmly as he indicated for her to sit in her seat by front of the room. She did not move. He looked at her rather exasperated. "If it is of any console to you, you could have made that potion in your second year."

She wanted to remain stubborn, but she gave into the bribe and made her way to her desk. Snape followed her to the front of the room where he began to pace quietly in front of his desk.

She wasn't sure if she should inquire as to why she was here. Instead, she took the time to observe the general orientation of objects on his desk and wonder if they were for show to intimidate the students or truly his own personal taste preference. For example, while his lab notebook and the various student papers and potion vials on his desk seemed to be of use, the addition of rather gruesome potion ingredients, such as frog eyes seemed rather dramatic and unnecessary.

After moments of silence, Hermione Professor Snape would not initiate the conversation, as he looked rather deep in thought, and decided to speak. "I don't understand why everyone must sabotage my work in order to get my attention."

He looked at her amused. "Yes, ill performance on your part seems to have a way of grabbing your attention," he replied, the amused look not leaving his face.

She huffed in annoyance before speaking. "What is it that you wanted to talk to me about? Draco seemed more than eager to stay behind. It seemed as though he didn't want to leave me alone with you."

Professor Snape paused in his pacing to observe her.

After a moment, he said, "It seems that Narcissa has taught you well."

Hermione did not reply. She simply waited patiently for his response.

"I spoke to Draco yesterday about his behavior," Snape explained as he continued to pace slowly once more. "It has come to my attention since the night of the ball things have not been well between the two of you. If word were to get out of disagreement between the two of you in the school or in the pureblood society, it would not bode well for either one of you or us. Since Draco was less than forthcoming about what has happened, I thought you would provide better perspective."

Hermione listened to Snape's words and thought about it. The words Draco told her earlier came to mind. _We do not know who is yet on our side_. It was possible that because Draco doubted Snape's loyalty that he was so reluctant to leave Hermione alone. She threw this out the door, as it was Snape and Blaise who saw her first preform her magic and saw the bond between herself and Draco. Had Snape wanted to exploit this, he would have done it sooner. No, it was more likely that Snape told Draco off as a father would scold a misbehaving child and had his pride hurt.

"I can't be quite sure," Hermione began. "After the night of the ball, he began avoiding me. He goes through all the proper gestures, but his mind always seems far away."

"Draco mentioned that you planned to oppose the Dark Lord, is this true?"

Hermione looked at Snape surprised. She had not expected Draco to mention that fact. She wasn't sure how wise it was for others to know of her plans. She looked at him, hesitating. As though he could feel her hesitation, he stopped to look at her directly. She took a deep breath. "Yes," she whispered.

"Good," Snape replied and continued his leisurely pacing. "I would expect nothing less of you."

"You're not surprised?" Hermione asked, rather surprised at his response herself.

"Angelus," he replied using her title for what felt, the first time. "I have seen you grow for the past seven years. While Draco may be willing to believe that you'll bow down before the Dark Lord, I know you have too much justice and will in you to do so. My only concern is how you will go about doing it."

Hermione looked at him dumbfounded. Perhaps she had underestimated her Professor.

"I haven't thought much about it yet," Hermione replied honestly.

"There is time," Snape calmly replied. "As for Draco, give him some time. While it is easy for you to adjust to our world, since you've once had to adjust to ours as you transitioned into Hogwarts, Draco has lived within the same lifestyle he was born into and it is all he knows. Your arrival, and especially your intentions to oppose the Dark Lord, have turned his world rather up-side down. It'll take some time for the information and it's implications to sink in."

At this moment the Professor paused and looked at Hermione very closely.

"He will not fail you though. If anything, Draco is fiercely loyal. He will pull through."

Hermione nodded. She had felt Draco's fierce loyalty before on the night of the ball. While on occasion she had reason to doubt him as a person, she had never doubted him as her Guardian and his duty to her. "Thank you Professor."

"If you ever require assistance, you are always welcome to send an owl to me. I heard the Malfoy's gave you one as a gift this Christmas?"the Professor asked as he turned away to sort the vials and essays on his desk.

"Yes, it's a charming little owl and behaves very well," Hermione replied as she felt this was her signal to leave. She put her book back over her shoulder and stood up.

Snape nodded. "Of course, the Malfoy's expect nothing but the best." He motioned his hand towards the door and removed the privacy charms Hermione had been previously unaware of. "You're welcome to leave."

Hermione nodded again. She paused before taking her exit. "Thank you again Professor."

Severus Snape did nothing but nod and motion for her to remove herself from the room. Hermione hid a small smile as she headed out the door, happy to know there was one person in the castle, besides Draco, whom she could place her trust in.

Hermione quickly made her way to her quarters. Dinner was starting and she wanted to eat quickly to finish some readings and assignments before making rounds later that night. The halls were mostly empty as many of the students had already made their way to the Great Hall. It was a small relief. She hadn't gotten used to all the looks sent her way after being away from them for so long. She also thought they had gotten worse after she had spent the holidays with the Malfoy's. No doubt the rumors were flying within the school about how they must have spent the holidays.

She had entered her room with a quiet calm within her. She felt accomplished. She had one ally on her side who had a standing within pureblood society, despite his half-blood status. Even if it was not a strong ally outside of the school, it was an ally nonetheless.

This feeling of calm soon left as soon as she had an irate Draco Malfoy in front of her.

Upon Hermione entering the doorway, Draco Malfoy leaped up from the loveseat and made his way towards her in great, powerful strides. She did everything to prevent herself from whipping out her wand at him in defense.

"What did you talk about?" he asked viciously as he continued to take large, angry steps towards her.

"What does it matter to you?" she replied as she tried to back out of the room. Her hand reached behind her to find the door handle. Even as her mind told her that Draco was a friend who would do her no harm, his actions and his body language told her otherwise and created a sense of panic within her.

"Of course it matter to me!" he hissed in reply as he finally reached her and grabbed a hold of her wrist. She let out a small yelp as he dragged her non-too-gently to the loveseat and threw her down. All hopes of leaving the room were lost.

"Tell me," he demanded as he stared her down.

She sat, upon the loveseat, hand in her lap with her legs tucked politely in front of her. It was a rather defensive pose as Draco stood towering over her.

She stuck out her chin as she gathered her courage and replied stubbornly, "He wanted to talk about your behavior as of late. He's worried you'll endanger both of us."

"Well you can tell him to take his worry and get the hell out of my business," Draco hissed quickly in reply as he began to prowl around the common room as though he were a cat looking for a fight.

"Your business?" Hermione exclaimed loudly as she stood up from her seat. "This is our business," she explained, rather hurt that his use of the word "our" could be forgotten so quickly. "and I have every right to talk to the Professor if need be!"

Draco Malfoy walked straight up to her and grabbed onto the first thing he could: her tie.

"My life is none of your business," he hissed as he used her tie to pull her face closer to his.

She looked at him furious. "Your life is my business," she hissed back. "You're my Guardian, and I am your Ward. When your behavior decides to jeopardize my position, then I am fully entitled to interfere with yours."

He let go of her tie as if he were holding onto fire and turned around to walk away from her. He knew she was right and he had nothing to say in his defense, so he did what he could do, which was to walk away.

"Don't you walk away Draco Malfoy," Hermione screamed as she chased after him.

He whipped around to glare at her. "I have every right to walk out on you. Just because my life is your business does not mean you can tell me what to say or do."

They stared at each other for quite a while before Draco opened the door and slammed it shut behind him leaving Hermione to examine the patterning of his door another time more.

* * *

Thank you for reading! Please leave a review!


	12. Chapter 11

Chapter

After staring at Draco's door for another eight minutes, Hermione finally turned her back to it and left. She marched straight to her room and immediately began to throw any object which came within hand's reach, the first being a candlestick holder, with vocalizations to accompany each resounding crash and thud. When she ran out of things to throw, which was a little past two minutes since the destruction had begun, she soon began to blow things up from a distance with her raw, wandless-magic.

Later, when reflecting back on that moment, Hermione would think that there could have been a more mature, equally effective way to handle her emotions, as she realized much later that magically repaired objects are never quite the same as their pre-exploded state. However, at the time, she could not help but resort to the juvenile tactic of "having a fit" to adequately express herself.

After throwing and blowing up objects about for the time span of seventeen minutes and forty three seconds, she suddenly came to a halt when she realized what object she was holding. It was a picture frame of her, Ron and Harry their first year. The three of them, still awkward with one another, had looked at the camera shyly, but with smiles on their faces at their newfound friendship, one that Hermione had always believed would last a lifetime.

She never knew life could change so fast.

In that moment, Hermione firmly decided nothing, absolutely nothing, would bring back the Hermione Granger she knew. This had always been quite blatantly apparent before, but she had shied away from it as though hoping like a child it would all simply go away when she closed her eyes, like a bad dream.

Hermione Granger no longer had a mother or a father. She had no friends. Her escapades with Harry and Ron were nullified the moment she discovered the truth.

Hermione Granger didn't exist.

She took this opportunity to throw a few more objects about.

Rather than allow this to defeat her, she found strength in her bitter loneliness. Hermione had overcome hardships before, such as the time when she had first arrived at grade school and had trouble fitting in due to her brilliant intelligence, or when she discovered she would always be considered an outcast from wizarding society by some people due to her blood. It was rather ironic how blood was now the same thing which would isolate her once more.

Her room was a mess. Shards of glass littered the floor. The few books which had made their ways into her hands had charred pages with the missing pages scattered about. Feathers dusted everything from her dresser to her desk in a blanket of snow and her curtains were in tatters.

She took a deep breath.

One by one, she began to reassemble her things. Objects which could not be conjured back together, which were few, she properly discarded in the trash. In a way, it was her method of organizing her feelings and her thoughts. Methodical processes always calmed her, which was why she enjoyed subjects such as Potions or Arithmacy that had an emphasis on method and order.

By the time her bedroom was organized and she was ready for bed, it was four in the morning. Rather than staying awake, she thought she would benefit from even a short nap and decided to retire into her newly repaired furniture.

* * *

Hermione stood on the very outskirts of the circle surrounding the platform in which wands were waved and hexes thrown in Defense Against the Dark Arts, able to view it only in the spaces between the heads and shoulders of students before her. Still, when the duel began she would have a decent view, even if it would be in rather episodic flashes.

More than usual, the volume of the room was louder. While the class had always been accompanied by the not so quiet murmurs of students as they gossiped and made behind the table bets on the day's winners, today the buzzing had become a loud roar. Hermione, however, paid little attention to it as she regarded the platform before her. The last time she had been up there had been in her duel with Harry and Ron. Since then, she had had a certain aversion to Defense Again the Dark Arts.

"Silence!" Professor Lupin shouted and the chatter within the room quieted down, though not completely. When the professor had received most everyone's attention, he began to speak. "The rules are the same as usual. Defendants may submit the name of his Offender into the cup. Once all names have been gathered, they shall be removed one by one and each dispute will be resolved by a fair duel in front of their peers." He paused to look about the room. It seemed as though he thought to say more, but thought better of it. "If there are no questions, we shall begin."

The usual hustle which followed Lupin's announcement was absent. The room was silent as a select few moved to grab sheets and write names down. Others who tried to make a move for the cup where held back by their peers. A few quiet whispers and wide eyes later, the individual would stay put and turn to regard the platform, until eventually all eyes watched with quiet anticipation and wariness as the students awaited the announcement of the first name.

"Draco Malfoy"

This came as no surprise for Hermione, as Draco's name was called usually once a week, if not more frequently. As Draco made his way to the platform, it seemed that Harry would be the first to take him on. No others approached the stage, which was unusual. Usually an offender, especially one such as Draco Malfoy had multiple defenders, if only to brag later that they got a shot on him. Today, he had only one: Harry Potter.

Hermione frowned as her hand unconsciously gripped her wand tighter.

Professor Snape made his way to the center of the dueling platform. While whispers still flew as Professor Lupin spoke, the presence of Professor Snape made the room become deathly silent. A wand could have dropped with a resounding thud.

"While I demand a fair duel, I know better than to expect one," Snape sneered in the direction of Potter. Harry scowled at this, and Hermione could see those within the House of Gryffindor become upset at the Professor's implication if their chattering was anything to go by.

Professor Snape stood in the middle of the platform, wand arm raised as Professor Lupin placed the necessary enchantments to prevent significant injury. From her vantage point, she could see the look shared between the Professor and Draco, as though to warn him. Draco brushed it off easily enough, as though he had little concern, breaking the silent conversation to glance at her. She looked at him, blood pounding in her ears in dreadful anticipation of these odd circumstances. She could imagine the look the Professor gave him was one to keep him on his toes. She hoped he would heed caution. Once Lupin gave a nod to Professor Snape, the Professor's arm dropped and they were off.

It was difficult to tell who fired the first spell, for spells flew from both their wand-tips. It was clear that Draco had the edge. Hermione could see him gauging Harry, to further analyze his weaknesses before going in for the kill. He fired one spell after the next to maintain a constant offense which would keep Harry moving and unable to stop.

As Hermione watched Harry's movements though, the uneasy feeling began to grow further inside of her. Harry was never one to hesitate in a duel. He was fast, rather inefficient, and more about power than strategy. He would exert his energy tirelessly to overwhelm his opponent if it would achieve its goal and tackle a challenge head on. It was rather opposite of Draco who chose to use the least amount of power for the greatest impact. Thus, Draco spent much of his time lazily studying his opponent and attacking at their weakest moment.

Then, the most peculiar thing happened. As she bit her lip, her eyes met Draco's. Harry took advantage of the distraction and took aim at Draco's left arm with a slicing hex. The spell caught Draco off guard as he narrowly avoided it, breaking eye contact, the spell only nicking his shirt, but Hermione realized, that was the intention all along, for exposed was his Dark Mark in its eternally black ink. She felt those around her shiver as the duel came to an end. Both sides stopped firing as Draco instinctively used his right hand to cover the Mark and what little blood there was. Hermione glanced over at the Gryffindors only to observe Lavender Brown record something in her notebook. So that was their plan then, they were going to uncover those with the Dark Mark one by one while searching for the Angelus.

It was a dirty trick.

Draco continued to stand with his hand on his mark, blood dropping rhythmically onto the platform, but no one moved as an eerie silence filled the air.

Hermione stood frozen, torn between standing her ground and running to him.

He looked so lost standing on that platform, one man against an army of people. This alone would not have called to her, as she understood the loneliness of life's journey. Instead, it was his eyes. To any other, it would appear as though Draco Malfoy was shocked. In part, this was true. However, it was the look of truth in his eyes, as though this was his fate, to be alone and unwanted, that made her heart cry. He stood as someone who had accepted that he was labeled as a murder in the eyes of his peers, the enemy, and that their scrutiny was his deserved punishment.

Hermione stood in her place as anger consumed her. Her Guardian should be proud of who he was and never accept the shame as truth. She knew logically if she ran up to the platform it would only bring further danger to the both of them. Before, he was Draco. No one had actually seen the mark, save for a select few. Now, however, it was like the pink elephant in the room that all were now forced to acknowledge. He was branded, a servant to the Dark Lord.

The old Hermione would have run out there, not giving a damn about the consequences. She had done that more than enough times with Harry and Ron through their years at the school, but she knew better than that now and had more discipline.

Still, she burned inside for Draco's embarrassment and shame.

Finally, he moved towards her, off the platform and she took a small step forward to receive him, then another and another, making her way as calmly as she could to the front of the platform. It was appropriate, as long as she didn't look too desperate. The other students still stood in place, unable to move in shock of observing such a mark on one of their peers. Once she reached him, she took a handkerchief from her bag to press against his arm. Perhaps part of it was an act, but another part of her didn't want him to expose that part of himself, a part which was so easy to judge. In that moment, she forgot what had transpired last night. That would be solved another time. Now was her time to stand by her Guardian.

It was strange that neither Hermione nor Draco thought to heal the cut magically, she thought to herself much later in the confines of her room. The conclusion she came upon was that some wounds were perhaps better left to be healed by time.

Draco covered her hand in his. The move surprised her as she looked up at him, wide-eyed. He quickly looked away and dropped her hand so that his hung by his side once more.

Stubbornly, she tied the handkerchief around his forearm and slid her hand into his. She squeezed firmly, yet gently, as though to tell him to stay put. He obeyed and they watched the crowd woke up from their stupor and Professor Lupin called out the name of Blaise.

Hand in hand, they stood, the occasional drop of blood falling onto the floor as they silently observed the next battle between Blaise and Terry Boot.

Blaise walked up to the platform with a poise of confidence. Now that the House knew the game, they would best them easily enough. Hermione knew as well that Terry would be no match for Blaise.

Indeed, that proved to be the case. Once the duel began, Blaise fired off the first spell, making Boot duel much more defensively than he would have liked, if his furrowed eyebrows were anything to go by.

Blaise played the field defensively, more so than Draco had now that he knew their tactic. He always stayed one step in front of Boot, his style being that of a defensive fighter with much less flair than Draco. However, each spell he fired had a quiet sort of power, like a lion on the prowl just waiting for the right time to strike. After a good amount of hexes, He delivered the same slicing hex that Harry had used on Draco on Boot's forearm.

The message was not lost on the Gryffindor house.

This was war.

Once the duel had ended, Blaise sent a smirk to Draco. Hermione could feel Draco tense up, before he let go of her hand and left the room. Hermione thought to follow after him, but thought better of it. The professors were unlikely to notice the absence of one student. Given that it was Draco Malfoy, she thought they would be even more lenient. However, if two students were go to missing, that would be another issue. Besides, Hermione had no good excuse to leave, and as a result she was stuck watching the next duel between Vincent and some student from Ravenclaw.

The rest of the period fared well enough. It was rather obvious that many of the matches were uneven in terms of playing field. Much of Slytherin house had grown with tutors on the arts of dueling as it was common in the old days to duel for honor. Even Vincent and Crabbe, who looked slow and dull, were surprisingly quick on their feet, which played to their advantage. Thus, while Vincent and Crabbe both came out of their matches triumphant, a few of the younger Slytherins did not fare as well. Lucky for them, they were all unbranded.

All in all, six matches were held that day and only one had proved fruitful for the House of Gryffindor. It was certainly not a victory, but they had gotten their prize: confirmation of Draco Malfoy's allegiance to the Dark Lord.

She stood quietly as Professor Lupin gave a closing lecture on how the students had fared that day. She thought it was a rather poor one as she could see he was obviously upset, either that his own house had used such underhanded tricks or at the thought that Draco Malfoy was truly a Death Eater. She could not tell which it was.

Once class was dismissed, she quickly grabbed her bag and left. She wanted to linger there no longer than needed. Her focus had waned after Draco had left and she wanted nothing more than to track him down to see how he was faring.

"Deatheater whore," a sixth year ravenclaw hissed as she passed by bumping into Hermione's arm so that she was nearly checked into the wall.

"Her own house was too good for her so she had to dig around in the trash," another first year Gryffindor whispered to her group of girlfriends as they passed by. While not nearly as harsh, seeing as how she was addressing a senior in her house, it was still very low.

Hermione continued to walk without regard to the comments. She had heard enough hateful comments in the past few weeks. She had heard them enough in grade school as well after the freak accidental magic incident where she had set her teacher's clothes on fire for treating her like an imbecile. It was a part of her nature to be the outsider, oftentimes due to circumstance more so than her willingness.

"You should pay them no attention."

Hermione turned to look around and saw Blaise. He stood against the wall as students continued to pass by them, blatantly staring at the strange exchange between Gryffindor and Slytherin. She looked at him in mild surprise, having been caught up in her thoughts as he let out a small laugh.

"You should see your eyes Granger, they're the size of saucers!" he chuckled. A few more students turned to look at what all the commotion was about.

Hermione couldn't help but blush in embarrassment, conscious of all the eyes watching them all the while. She wanted to take their conversation to a place where she would be under less scrutiny.

Blaise finally regained his composure. He leaned in casually and whispered, "In any case, I'm supposed to relay a message."

Hermione looked at him with a small frown, mostly to play the part. In reality, she wanted to tell him to take a step back so that he was out of her bubble. She did not need more rumors to fly around the castle. "Why don't we go check the schedule? Then we can see if anyone is available to take your prefect duties for tonight. " She looked at him with genuine disapproval. "You do realize you'll have to do rounds some other night?"

Blaise just smiled as he opened his arm as though inviting her to lead the way. Hermione stopped herself from rolling her eyes at Blaise's dramatic antics and began to walk down the hall to create some distance between not only themselves and the student body but between herself and Blaise as well.

As they walked down the hall the number of students began to dwindle until there was only the two of them left. Very few students ever wandered into the dungeons, especially this year with the circumstances around them, so they had no trouble finding some privacy.

"A certain professor would like to have a word with you," Blaise finally announced when they had nearly reached the Head Dormitories.

Hermione couldn't help but frown further at the mention of Professor Snape. Perhaps this was how Draco felt whenever he was summoned by the Professor. She could sympathize with him. She felt rather like a child being chastised.

"He wants you to stop by later tonight, when everyone is otherwise occupied," Blaise explained with a smile. "I'm sure you understand."

"Of course," she replied.

"Draco will be there as well," Blaise whispered, as if it were an afterthought.

Hermione furrowed her eyebrows. It was one thing to meet the Professor alone. It was another thing all together to meet the Professor together.

Blaise laughed. "I see the thought doesn't suit you."

Hermione shook her head. "It's fine. Things with Draco have been-" she stopped. While it was true that things between her and Draco had not been pleasant as of late, it would not be good to start any rumors, even if this was Blaise she was talking to.

He merely shook his head in understanding. "He'll come around."

She looked at him with mild surprise.

Blaise grinned. "You should have seen us as children. It's only after all these years that Draco finally accepts the fact that someone could possibly care about him. The fact that you're a girl complicates matters."

"Complicates matters?" Hermione asked even more confused than before.

Blaise shrugged it off as he turned away to leave.

"Ask Draco about it sometime," he exclaimed, leaving Hermione alone to wonder what it was that Blaise meant.

* * *

Little more happened until they were to meet. Hermione attended her remaining classes and meal times as usual, albeit, quite alone. She had tried to find Draco after their lesson, but he remained elusive. He wasn't present at meals and during their classes he remained stoically silent, only to disappear the moment the two of them were alone.

She heard the whispers, the frightened looks between the younger students and especially the muggle-borns. It questioned her decision and made her resolve waver. Even if she forsook the Dark Lord, it was unlikely the wizarding world would embrace her. Instead, they may fear her even more, for she would surely look to be the next Dark Lord, or more appropriately, Lady. The bottom line would be that she would remain an outcast, estranged from those loyal to her in the past and shunned by those once her enemies.

She let out a sigh, setting down her book. She had always wanted to fit in.

She looked to the door one last time, willing it to open before she finally set out.

Draco would not come.

She made sure to cloak herself in a simple disillusionment charm. She knew it would do nothing to hide her from the professors determined to find her, but it worked for simple purposes. She took less frequented routes from her rooms to her Professor's, or at least, the vicinity of his quarters. She had never been there of course, and they were the thing of rumor among the Gryffindors. She laughed at the thought. She found it very unlikely that his room with be filled with any of the likes the first year Gryffindors suggested.

When she had returned to her quarters earlier, she had found no trace of Draco. She had waited for a while in the common room reading a book, so that she could check up on him and so that they may go down together or at least, different-paths-same-endpoint together. However, even as the hour passed into two, she saw no sight of him. Thus, with eleven o'clock fast approaching, she decided to venture out without him.

"Miss Granger."

She whipped around to face who she knew to be Severus, heart pounding. She had suspected that he would sense her. However, she had thought to approach him, not the other way around. The Professor was well hidden in the shadows of the corridor. After checking to make sure no one was around, she canceled the disillusionment charm upon her.

"Professor," she addressed. He stepped out of the shadows and gave her a small bow.

"Draco is slacking in his responsibilities," was his flat reply.

Hermione turned her face away from him, looking to the floor her hands clasped in each other rather awkwardly as she shifted her weight from foot to foot. "I have not seen him."

Severus made a frown. Instead of voicing his opinion on the matter, however, he approached her and held out his arm. "I was informed that you were not aware of where my quarters were. Come, I will show you."

Hermione looked up at him hesitantly. "But the students-"

"Taken care of," he replied coolly, as though irritated that she was questioning his competence. "I sent those imbeciles to bed long before your arrival" and with a pause he said in a whisper, "Angelus."

She shivered at the sound of her name. She trusted Severus, however, and took hold of his arm. He had not betrayed her that night so long ago when she had first found out about her heritage and had also gave her his council and advice. Thus, even while he may have killed the headmaster, she had to believe it was with reason, even if a part of her still questioned whose side he was on.

He led her down the hall, only to pause at a blank wall. There was no portrait, nothing to mark it as the entrance to living quarters which Hermione found rather odd.

The only thing she saw, upon further observation was a single engraving upon the brick.

"The Prince crest," Severus replied as he tapped his wand upon the brick and whispered an incantation. Immediately, the bricks sprang to life to form a dark wooden door in front of her. "The crest changes from time to time," he commented as the door solidified. "Sometimes it determines that I am a Snape."

Hermione saw his attempt at humor and gave him a small smile. She could see the mirth reflected in his eyes, even while his face betrayed none of his inner humor.

She let go of his arm as his hand went to open the door. He gestured her inwards first and followed behind her.

She found herself in a sitting room. Before the fire was a love seat and a set of high back chairs, each furnished with lush upholstery and cushions of a rich cream gold and ruby tone. There was a rug to accompany the coffee table which had a tray of tea and biscuits upon it.

"If you would prefer something more substantial, such as sandwiches, please do not hesitate to ask," the Professor said as he indicated to her to sit. "I am to understand that those of the female species prefer to avoid late night snacking."

Hermione held back a small laugh and smiled. She replied, "Quite often they go against their own advice in front of such temptations," as she sat down on the loveseat and the Professor on the high back chair to her left.

"Tea?" he asked as he began to pour himself a cup.

"Yes please," Hermione replied as the Professor also poured her a cup and set it down on a saucer in front of her.

She took in the pleasant aroma as she held the cup up to her mouth and took a sip. She let out a small sigh and then set her cup back down. She had been in the Professors' quarters for just under ten minutes. However, she knew the moment she had walked in that Draco Malfoy would not be accompanying them tonight.

"Draco's not coming, is he?" Hermione stated.

Professor Snape set down his tea cup as he shifted his weight in his chair, as though he were preparing himself to sit for a while and contemplate his thoughts.

"I believe you are right," he stated after a small silence.

Hermione wasn't quite sure how she felt. The most prominent feeling was probably hurt. Others were mixed in with it: confused, angry, sad.

The professor was silent for a long while after when he finally got up and moved to a rather tall book shelf occupying one corner of the sitting room. There he paused and looked back at Hermione.

"Angelus," he began, "What do you know of life-blood oaths and wizarding tradition?"

Hermione looked at him confused. "Are they not very similar to wand oaths?"  
Severus Snape looked at her with what looked like barely concealed astonishment. It quickly left his features as he quickly grabbed a text from the shelf. He paused and grabbed a few more and brought them before Hermione.

"While Narcissa is rarely negligent to the education of proper etiquette of those under her care, I believe she forgot your truly muggle background. As such, it seems she thought some lessons too trivial to teach to someone so old and in need of much more advanced lessons when faced with such immediate danger as observed at the Ball," the Professor explained. "I believe it is my duty then to inform you of the extreme basics."

Hermione looked at the text set in front of her. The cover of it was of a rich burgundy color and looked to be a rather lengthy text. The title of it covered in faded gold foil read _A Basic Comprehensive Understanding of Pureblood Society and Tradition for the Commoner._ Hermione scoffed inwardly. She was far from a commoner. She supposed it was the author's pleasant way of saying outsider.

"You are free to take this text with you Angelus as you may return it when you are finished and as long as no one knows you are in possession of such texts. They are rather rare and people would question how you came into possession of them. However, at this moment, I would like for you to turn to chapter 7 titled _Rites and Passages: an overview_. I believe it will aid you greatly at this moment," the Professor explained and after observing Hermione for a moment, he retreated from the room, leaving Hermione to her own devices.

She found herself pleasantly comfortable, despite the foreign place she was in. The armchair she sat in was firm, but had enough softness for support and comfort. She balanced her cup of tea and, after a moment of hesitation, a small plate of biscuits on the armrest. Even while they looked rather perilously close to falling off, Hermione was an expert at this and knew they would stay put as long as she made no sudden movements. Thus, she settled in and began to read the chapter Professor Snape had suggested.

_It is of note that the information contained within this chapter covers only the very surface of the tradition within the rites and passages of pureblood society, for only those within society know the true secrets and those secrets are not shared lightly with outsiders. Even half-bloods or purebloods within the lower circles of society know only rumors of the rites and passages of the elite._

_ However, it is relatively common knowledge that there are three levels of rites and passages. The first of these is what is commonly known as a wand oath. This is a rite which began within pureblood circles and was commonly exchanged with non-purebloods to ensure secrets were kept. This is because the word of a non-pureblood held less value than that of a pureblood, since a broken word was the equivalent of losing face within society and the faith of allies and followers. In a wand oath, while several variations exist, the simplest one is one in which the oath keeper and oath giver hold wand arms as a witness casts the spells. These spells range from simple death upon failure to keep the oath to curses which may last for several generations within the blood line._

_ The second level of rites and passages are those involving a blood oath. These are often only preformed within pureblood circles since often outsiders have insufficient knowledge of the actual rites themselves which often results in disastrous outcomes. The most recent famous example was that of a young man named Terrence who had knowingly and unknowingly pledged a blood oath to his first love which resulted in her death and subsequently his death as well (See chapter nine for more detail). Often in pureblood marriage a blood oath is taken. While the practice has fallen out of vogue within the past century, the elite pureblood families still perform the rites. In addition, blood oaths may be made within families between father and sons in terms of duty to family, fathers and daughters in terms of her chastity and her duty of marriage to strength familial ties, and so on. _

_ The third and most severe and serious of rites and passages are those involving an exchange of life's blood in addition to a blood oath. An exchange of life's blood and its exact procedures are unknown to those but the very noblest of pureblood families, the Seven Ancient Families. While the rites are unknown, the ramifications are profoundly understood. An exchange of life's blood is the ultimate oath one can make as it means their life is at the mercy of the giver or receiver of the life's blood. Ultimately it would mean the life or death of that individual is at the mercy of the donor/receiver such that their will is no longer their own. However, while this rite is common knowledge, in the history of the wizarding world there has been no actual documentation of such a rite having been preformed, so much of our knowledge is based off of myth, legend and rumor._

_ As a side note, scholars believe the strange occurrence of life debt seems to occur as a combination of an exchange of life's blood and blood oath. Something must occur between that threshold of life and death in which savior is determined and is considered the equivalent of an exchange and acknowledgement of life's blood having been exchanged. While not as severe as an exchange of life's blood, it nonetheless holds the recipient in the hold of their savior until such a favor can be returned. _

_ In addition, there are other blood magicks, but to list them in this chapter would be too great. For further details, I would suggest looking at Abigail Skinner's text on Blood Magicks: Their Origins and Effects on both Parties. The rest of this chapter will look further into these three subjects and an outsider's current understanding of them._

Hermione set the text down, worried it would slip from the grasp of her fingers, to contemplate what was written within it, the blood pounding in her ears.

"I've essentially made him into a slave," Hermione whispered in lament, her heart wrenching. She had only meant to save his life. She thought he was doing him a favor. Now she understood that any evasion of death had its costs.

"Made more so by his blood oath along with the two life debts he owes you," the Professor stated. Hermione was not surprised to find him in the room. He was probably allowing her some privacy while she read the text, only to discuss it with her later. "I do not believe I've ever heard of an exchange of life's blood, let alone having it been done three times."

Hermione looked at him for an explanation.

"Once when you were mere babies, Draco gave his life's blood to affirm his Guardianship over you. Marcus and Lillian wanted it as an affirmation of the Malfoy's loyalty to the Angelus family. I believe however, since you were both so young, such a rite would have little hold over yourselves other than to solidify family ties.

The second time would have been earlier this year when Draco had returned from his mission. That time and the time at the ball after that would have further sealed his fate and bound him to you. As a result, his fate is ultimately intertwined with yours," the Professor explained.

Hermione thought about this but had difficulty grasping the implications. She instead, took a sip of tea to help calm her thoughts, so that she could slowly begin to organize fact from feeling.

"I thought about your relationship since I first witnessed your healing of Draco and more so after I heard news of the events at the ball." Snape explained. "He is an extension of yourself, essentially. There are scholars who say that an exchange of life's blood is not so different from splitting your soul. The difference lies within fact that life's blood is of the physical body whereas your soul is of your spiritual self. However, the line between physical and spiritual becomes hazy, especially so close to death. Thus, it is my belief that Draco holds much tighter binds upon himself than would be expected. I'm sure he has figured out part of this himself, or at least, thought of the possibility."

"Oh my god," Hermione exclaimed, her muggle upbringing supplying her only possible reply at a moment such as this. Hermione realized what the Professor was saying. Draco Malfoy no longer had a will. Her word was his will, and his failure to execute it would result in punishment, possibly his death. He was her pawn. There was no dignity, no pride left.

Perhaps that is what the Dark Lord had wanted all along the night of the ball. The show she had put on not only affirmed her status and her ability, but the Dark Lord had perhaps hoped that such enslavement would have caused the isolation of herself from her Guardian. It was quite a vulnerable state.

Hermione found she had a deep, newfound respect for Malfoy. Had it been herself, she would have fallen into a deep depression and very likely more. All her dreams of the future, as bleak as they were currently, would be gone with the wind. She would be an empty vessel.

"It cannot be undone?" Hermione asked even while she knew the answer.

"No," the Professor replied firmly. "You must find out where to go from here."

* * *

Hermione could see him outside her window. He stood solitary, alone by the black lake, a mere shadow. From time to time she would see him in that exact area leaning against an ash tree which encompassed the northern end of Dumbledore's tomb. Occasional ripples spread across the lake in time with the passing breeze.

She wanted to know what he was thinking, being in such a lonely place surrounded by the constant reminders of his failure. How much had changed since that night for him. She could not imagine what it would feel like to be in his position.

When Hermione had returned from Professor Snape's office, she had tried to make a list of what she had learned, the circumstances as they were right now, and their implications on the future. Writing down what she had learned had been easy enough, but she had no idea where to begin with the circumstances right now, let alone the future.

The only thing she knew for sure was that she would never knowingly take advantage of the position Draco was in. She would never hand him a direct order. Instead, she would from this moment forward do her best to respect his position and his thoughts on matters. He was her Guardian, but she would be damned if she let him become her slave. No one should have their will taken away from them, even if they receive life in return.

The only thing was that Hermione did not know how to convince Draco of this fact. He would not believe her if she told him. He would probably think she was seeing him as a pity case and would be even more angered at her actions and that would do nothing good for their relationship, whatever that was.

As such, Hermione spent the rest of the time figuring out a plan, all while watching Draco outside her frosted window.

* * *

Her feet were cold and her hands were numb. The icy winter wind burned her lungs. She could barely see more than a few feet in front of her even with the light from her wand.

Out there in the snow was probably the last place she wanted to be at two in the morning, but she was getting tired of all the games Draco and her had been playing this past month. It was time to settle things once and for all, so she walked on even as every bone in her body wanted her to turn back and snuggle into warm covers.

* * *

Draco Malfoy wasn't quite sure what he was doing outside at two in the morning with little more than his school robes to keep him warm on this cold winter night. He had lost feeling in his extremities approximately an hour ago and, in some sick way, it was rather comforting to him.

He had seen her about fifteen minutes ago, a black-brown blur among the white landscape, increasing in size as time passed. He had considered leaving. He was in no mood to put up with her heroic antics at this time of night as he had enough of his own thoughts to deal with. He had already decided to leave three minutes ago, so he wasn't quite sure why he stood there waiting for their certain rather ugly confrontation.

"Granger" Draco greeted her as she approached, her form still obscured in the night, before he could bring his body to walk away. He shifted his weight from his right foot to his left.

"Malfoy," Hermione replied as she finally came to a halt. She stood about a foot away from him. He was still leaning against the ash tree, arms crossed. Dumbledore's tomb, a small distance to their right gave off an eerie sort of glow even in the absence of full moonlight. She stood, barely visible in the darkness and the falling snow.

"You know Granger," Draco began, "often the purpose of leaving the castle, especially at this hour of the night, is to be alone. I believe your presence out here makes my effort rather futile."

He saw the way she pulled into herself, hands sliding into the pockets of her robes, legs straight with no mind of walking and bending. He imagined she was quite possibly biting her lip, as though trying to figure out what was the most appropriate thing to say without escalating this into another once of their spectacular arguments. He had quite thoroughly heard all her theatrics the night before. His amusement at her anger made him forget his own, so instead of going about in the same manner as her, he had instead sat down and tracked each bursting flare of magic. He was sure if he had been witness to it, her magical presence would have been magnificent.

"You're stating the obvious," she finally said, breaking his train of thought.

"I do not believe there are rules against stating the obvious," Draco replied, eyebrow raised, as she too was stating the obvious.

"You're being a prat," Hermione replied. He could feel her frustration in her stress of the p in "prat" and the slight pause right before she said it. Maybe he was sick in the head if something like Hermione Granger's frustration gave him some sort of amusement.

"Well that's something," was Draco's reply.

Hermione had no reply for that.

Draco had avoided her since the duel that afternoon. He had no desire to see that look in her eyes again, that look of something akin to pity, or worse, understanding.

He had known before his duel began that today would be different. Blaise had approached him before the period to mention the whispers circulating among the students. While no one in Slytherin knew exactly what was going on, everyone knew that it could not be good news.

Thus, when Draco was approached with none other than Harry Potter, he knew some scheme had been planned. Still, he was frustrated with himself for allowing Potter to win. He should have been more alert.

He had been waiting for the right moment to strike when, in his periphery, he caught a glimpse of Hermione, between all those heads and shoulders, biting her lower lip with her brows furrowed in a look of concern.

He wanted to tell her to stop biting that god-damned lip in his presence because it was getting annoying having to see that time and time again over the past month. As a result, Potter took the time to strike, and Draco had only a moment to move but for Potter that was enough.

He knew he was being cowardly and childish in his antics, but he didn't want to face the facts, that he was once again forced into a situation neither of his making or desire.

Of course, the circumstances were different than the year previous, but that year had left a bad taste in his mouth for forced situations. He was simply lucky the Dark Lord had been more than pleased with Severus to overlook his failure.

Still, that year he had been alone. He only had to concern himself with watching his back, which was relatively simple with the entire school deeming him an outcast. Currently, he had someone to look after: his ward and his captor, Hermione Granger.

She was his captor certainly. She could tell him to jump off the astronomy tower in his underwear screaming the tune to Jingle Bells and he would be forced to do it out of honor, not that he could imagine Hermione Granger to be that cruel.

Of course, Hermione probably didn't understand the basics of ancient wizarding honor or blood oaths and life's blood, but that still did not mean she would smile at him so innocently.

Wait, Draco Malfoy looked at Hermione much more closely than he had previously.

There is was, that flash in her eyes. Someone had told her.

That made Draco even angrier. While it was irritating to put up with a blissfully ignorant Ward that had no idea what her smiles or concerned eyes did to him, he didn't need someone's pity.

"If you're here to say you're sorry, you can just sod off," Draco rebuked.

He saw Hermione flinch a millimeter, then she stood still and remained silent.

Draco took the time to gaze at the water on the lake. If only his mind could be that still. Instead there were constant ripples and waves created by the very girl in front of her, a constant movement and restlessness.

He heard a splash. When he looked around, he saw Hermione was gone, a ripple in the water, another disturbance to what was his previously still and frozen life.

He didn't immediately jump after her. There was no reason for theatrics, he thought. She would surface soon. Had he smoked, he probably would have lit a cigarette and had a smoke while watching the water for her to surface. Instead, he began to twirl his wand.

The seconds elapsed and the ripples slowly began to disappear so that the surface was calm again, as though nothing had happened. It was then he realized what she was trying to do.

"Fuck."

He made quick work of his outer robes and shoes as he ran into the lake before diving in after her.

It was dark and the water was even colder than the air. It bit into his skin and gripped onto him, like a thousand of sharp needles poking into his flesh. He fought against it with a mental string of curse words in quite a few languages as he used all his will to cast a wordless _Lumos _and dove into the water. With the aid of the dim light he saw that Granger had sunk much further than he had expected. He swam closer to her proximate location before surfacing for air. After a few gasps he dove.

He used all his energy to reach her. Hermione was a lifeless doll about seven feet beneath him. He was thankful the water was still relatively shallow as he swam towards her. Even as his lungs protested and he felt the uncomfortable pressure in his ears, he continued towards her.

Once he reached the bottom, he touched the ground to anchor and support him as he took a hold of Hermione. She felt like ice, but he wasn't sure if it was simply the water or her skin. He crouched down before pushing against the bottom of the lake with all his might. He swam desperately towards the surface as his lungs used all the oxygen within his system. His head began to feel dizzy a foot from the surface, but he fought against it and finally, after what felt like an eon, he surfaced.

Gasping for air, he swam towards the shore, Hermione in one arm and wand held out in front with another. He tried to monitor her conditions. She looked deathly pale and her lips were blue. Her eyes were shut and her body was trembling.

Once they reached the shore, Draco pulled her up and laid her on the snow, taking off her wet outer robes. While a part of Draco could register that he was freezing and at possible risk of hypothermia himself, he could only focus on Hermione.

The first thing he noticed was that she was not breathing.

In a state of panic he did the first thing he could think of.

"Ennervate."

Her chest jerked up in a grotesque manner that made Draco wince. When she fell back to the ground, she was still as lifeless as ever. He did it again, then again.

He had been told in the past that if a patient did not awake or respond to the enervate, it was every unlikely that he would respond to the second or the third, as such subsequent spells could possibly cause damage to the nervous system.

It was on the fourth contortion that Hermione awoke and begun to cough, hunching over and coughing out the water which had entered her body. While she coughed and held onto her stomach in her miserable state, all Draco could feel was relief. He wanted to crush her to his chest while clearly articulating her idiocy to her face. He did the later.

"You, Hermione Granger, are a fucking bloody idiot," Draco hissed as her eyes fluttered open.

Hermione had the nerve to look up at him, blue lips, shivering to give him what he interpreted as a weak smile. In all honesty, it looked more like a painful grimace.

"So," she said, teeth chattering as she tried to draw in sufficent air, "we're even now?" the last part of which triggered a coughing fit.

Draco was immediately by her side crouched down, placing a hand on her icy arm, ensuring that she was okay. Once the attack subsided he hissed angrily, "It doesn't work like that!"

When Hermione didn't reply, he realized her condition was quickly deteriorating. He immediately decided they needed to move inside. The longer they were out by the lake, the more likely they would both end up with hypothermia and frost bitten limbs, so, despite the extreme protest of his body he crouched down with his back towards Hermione.

"Granger, get up."

He looked over his shoulder to find Hermione looking at him with barely open eyes and purple lips.

"If you don't get up and onto my back I'll make you," stated flatly, his teeth chattering slightly as though it explained everything.

He watched her struggle to sit up as she shivered. He was pretty sure she was starting to lose feeling in some of her extremities. Still, he saw the determination on her face as she gave herself a little push and crawled onto his back. Once she was firmly in place, arms tightly around his neck, he took off.

The trek back to the castle could not have been longer than ten minutes, but it felt like an eternity. He tried his best to walk at a slow jog, but no matter how hard he pushed himself, he felt he was going no faster than a snail's pace. Sometime between when Hermione had jumped into the lake and now, the snow had begun to fall such that Draco felt himself getting hit with snowflake after snowflake, which, when combined with the wind, hurt like hell on his already frozen skin.

He could have just as easily called for assistance. He was sure the Professor was still awake, and it would not be difficult to wake up Blaise. Instead, he stubbornly decided to figure this out himself. He knew the reason why Granger threw herself into the lake and nearly committed suicide. It was her way to of telling him that she trusted him with her life. She trusted him to keep her alive, and he would prove to her that her faith was not misplaced.

Perhaps it was foolish on both their terms, as Professor Snape would furiously scold them for their childish behavior later, but for the both of them, in that moment it made perfect sense. As young adults, they would solve this problem together, without help.

He felt relief flood him as they reached the main doors to the castle. He knew once they were inside the greatest danger would be past. He just had to make sure Granger and he didn't die of hypothermia once they were inside.

With all his might he pushed opened the doors and entered. The warm heat of the castle bit into his skin with fire. It was a painful sort of relief. He wasn't sure if Hermione was even awake, but she continued to hold a relatively firm grip of his neck, even while he had to constantly adjust her weight to prevent her from falling off.

He ignored the gasps of some of the portraits as he made his way to their common room. He sent them glares, daring them to tell the professors. He was sure quite a few of them would. The portrait to their quarters didn't even ask for the password as it swung open and he entered.

He set Hermione down on the thick rug directly in front of the fireplace. He piled logs into it and cast the spell to start it on fire. Then, he piled blankets on top of blankets onto her. He had first raided his room grabbing any sort of linen which would provide cover and warmth from his comforter to his throws and even towels. When he decided it wasn't enough, he decided to raid Hermione's room.

He had never actually entered Hermione's room before, so it came as a surprise to him how clean it was in the aftermath of her wrath. Even as he quickly headed to the bed to grab her comforter and throws, he noted the amount of books she had and the way the papers on her desk were scattered about, as though she had been in the middle of a thought.

Then he sat and waited, shivering.

Still, after half an hour she wouldn't stop shivering and it broke Draco's heart. He had never seen Hermione look so vulnerable before. Sweat covered her forehead and brow giving her a sickly sort of sheen as color slowly returned to her pale features. Usually she was sure of everything and confident in her skills. She had the courage to oppose the Dark Lord and believe that she could accomplish it. It was that very courage and sureness of herself which had bothered Draco day after day because he often felt that kind of courage lacking in himself. That lack of courage is what led to the events last year with the death of Dumbledore and Hermione seemed to continually make him feel guilty for it.

He would not let his ward die. With what strength he had left, he got up and sat down next to Hermione's spot on the floor. With all his courage and strength he held onto her through all the blankets, the flimsy throw which was usually present in the common room thrown over him even while his body was shivering.

Slowly her shivering subsided and the last thing Draco thought as exhaustion took over him was that he was going to protect this girl, so she'd never show this weakness to him ever again.


End file.
